


Flames Of Eternity

by verhalen



Series: Northern Lights [3]
Category: Multi-Fandom, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien, Worldweavers - Multiverse
Genre: ALL THE ANGST, Adopted Children, Adoption, Alternate Universe - Modern: Still Have Powers, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Anal Sex, Angry Sex, Angst, Australia, Biracial Character, Bisexual Female Character, Bisexual Male Character, Blood Kink, Blow Jobs, Canada, Character(s) of Color, Crossover of 'verses, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Cuddling & Snuggling, Cunnilingus, Dagor Dagorath, Depression, Double Anal Penetration, Double Oral Penetration, Duelling, Elves In The Present Day, Elves Reborn As Mortal, Empathy, F/M, Family Reunions, Feisty Fëanorions, Food Kink, Food Sex, Force Bond (Star Wars), Force Sensitives On Earth, Found Family, Foursome - M/M/M/M, Gangbang, Gay Sex, Grief/Mourning, Guns, Iceland, Incest, Incestuous House Of Finwë, Interracial Relationship, Knifeplay, Leashes, Light Bondage, Long, Long Lost/Secret Relatives, M/M, Maglor (Tolkien) Through History, Maglor Has No Chill, Maglor in the Modern-day, Makeup Sex, May/December Relationship, Minor Injuries, Minor Violence, Multi, Multiracial Children, No simple pairings, Older Man/Younger Man, On the Run, Oral Sex, Parenthood, Past Abuse, Past Lives, Penis In Vagina Sex, Polyamory, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, References to Norse Mythology, Reincarnation, Rimming, Road Trips, Silmarils, So much angst, Sören Is Soft And Sad, Telekinesis, Telepathic Bond, Telepathy, The Force, The Valar are either useless or despicable, Threesome - F/M/M, Threesome - M/M/M, Trans Female Character, angst angst angst, so much crying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2020-01-29
Packaged: 2020-06-26 19:19:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 40
Words: 233,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19774741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verhalen/pseuds/verhalen
Summary: The sequel toChains of Eternity.In 2020, Sören's life is about to get turned upside down again as the Dagor Dagorath happens in the Prime universe and sends strong shock waves into his universe, that will end up taking Sören and his partners on a surprise emergency journey from Iceland to Canada to Australia, with major unexpected life changes in store.  Will the fire of love be enough to light the way through the darkness of the unknown?





	1. Hidden Folk, Hidden Places

**Author's Note:**

> Sören Sigurdsson and his family are my OCs.
> 
> ~ ~ ~
> 
> **Disclaimer Update June 2020**  
>  At the time this fic was written (July 2019 - January 2020) I had Spiced Wine's permission and enthusiastic consent to write her OCs (Vanimórë, Coldagnir and Edenel) and sequels to my fic _Chains of Eternity_. If you are here following her revoking that permission in June 2020 and her false claim as to why she did so, [please read this public statement from me before you pass judgment on me](https://verhalen.dreamwidth.org/294028.html). I do not respond to negative, harassing comments so if you've come here to harass me on her behalf, you're wasting your time.
> 
> ~ ~ ~
> 
>   
> (banner made by me)

Now this is not the end. It is not even the beginning of the end. But it is, perhaps, the end of the beginning.

-Winston Churchill

~ ~ ~

**Hidden Folk, Hidden Places**

**Adelaide, Australia**  
 _December 2020_  
  
Megadeth and Metallica Kim-Jonsson were having their thrice-weekly piano lessons. Alinta Jonsson smiled as she watched from the doorway to the rec room, once again glad that she'd found a cool teacher who not only didn't bat an eyelash at the fraternal twins being mixed-race, but was teaching them to play pop and rock as well as classical pieces. Her son and daughter were only six but gifted.  
  
 _Very_ gifted.  
  
"Thanks for coming, Jer," Ali said as Jeremy Hogan was packing up.  
  
"Ah, you're welcome. Your kids are always a delight." The deeply tanned aging hippie grinned, and affectionately tousled the kids' mullets as they hugged his waist.  
  
Ali tousled Jer's long grey hair then and slapped him on the shoulder. She gave him his usual fee for the session and then an extra few bucks as a tip.  
  
"Oh no, you don't need to -"  
  
"No, I insist." Ali looked through the sliding glass doors out at the patio, where her boyfriend Kenny Kim was setting up the grill. "Actually, you want to stay for dinner, and drinks?"  
  
That was what he did. Ali was a moderate drinker - painfully aware of what alcohol had done to much of the Aboriginal side of her family - but one mojito was nice on a warm summer day like this. The kids played on the floor as the three grownups watched telly, and then Megadeth and Metallica wanted to go outside and kick a ball around so Ali stepped out with them, leaving Kenny and Jer to their mojitos.  
  
Then Kenny slid open the door and leaned, folding his arms. "Hey, Ali... there's some Icelandic dude on the news. You might wanna come see this."  
  
Ali raised an eyebrow. First, at Kenny's use of "dude" - the Korean-American had lived in Australia for twelve years now and still hadn't completely adopted Australian vocabulary, though he sounded more Aussie than California these days. Second, that some random Icelandic person would be of interest, even though it was her father's home country and it was a small enough place to assume that everyone sort of knew everyone. Ali had never been to her father's homeland, though it was on her bucket list.  
  
Ali came in anyway, as Metallica and Megadeth continued to kick the ball around.  
  
"The scientific community remains in shock following the mysterious disappearance of the thirty-six-year-old astrophysicist Dagnýr Sigurdsson, his husband, and their two daughters..."  
  
There was a photo of Dagnýr, boy-next-door look, short dark hair, grey eyes like hers, dimples when he smiled. His husband, who the text strip with the newscast identified as Matt, was unfortunate-looking - big ears, messy dyed platinum blonde hair, thick glasses, kind of a funny face - but they were cute together in their happiness, and cuter in the picture of them holding their babies.  
  
One of the babies had dark hair, one had red hair.  
  
"Canadian authorities are still investigating all possible leads..."  
  
Ali's heart started hammering. She remembered her haul for Apollyon Enterprises days ago, picking up "three cunts" at Alice Springs, not told that they would also have two babies who, as it turned out, had dark hair and red hair like in the photo. Baby girls, and it was girls who'd gone missing. It had been Protocol Delta - top-secret, not to be discussed with anyone outside her boss, no names given for her passengers, no interaction allowed beyond basic instructions to the passengers on a needed basis only such as giving travel itinerary, and they were dropped off at a warehouse at the end of the trip; Ali had somewhat broken protocol to help comfort the girls when they were crying, and one of the three men had an unusual accent, though he didn't look like the man in the picture apart from also having dark hair, but his was shoulder-length and curly.   
  
Even with the limited information Ali had about them and their situation, she had figured out they were on the run from _something_ , though she'd assumed refugees, maybe, and now...  
  
A flash of memory. Her father, Böðvar Jónsson, showing a much smaller, precocious version of her a picture of his eldest sister Brynhildur, at her marriage to a man named Sigurd. The very briefest mention, once upon a time, _"you've got cousins back in Iceland but their guardians -"_ apparently Brynhildur and Sigurd were both dead - _"won't let me talk to them 'cos I married a black lady."_  
  
That had to be a coincidence, right? That there was some bloke with the patronymic of Sigurdsson, who had two babies who bore a resemblance to the two babies that were in her truck just days earlier?  
  
Ali's twenty-seven years of life had taught her there were very few actual coincidences.  
  
There was another picture of Dagnýr on the screen now, from when he was a student at Oxford, maybe 19-20 years old, hair to his shoulders, _curly_. Like the hair of the man with the weird Scandi-sounding accent in the truck.  
  
"You all right, babe?" Kenny noticed.  
  
"Yeh, ta." Ali got up. "Would you excuse me for just a few minutes?"  
  
She went to their bedroom, where her cell phone was on its charger. She waved her hand and the phone flew off its charger into her hand. She pulled up her contacts and her father's number. Calling her father would be a crapshoot, since he lived on a sheep farm in the middle of nowhere in South Australia and eschewed a lot of modern technology, only having a cell because his kids made him - he didn't even have Internet, his knowledge of anything online came from what his kids told him - and he didn't always have his phone on, or charged, but she had to try.  
  
One ring. Two. She pushed hard into her father's mind, even though she knew it would give her a headache later. _Pick up the sodding phone, Da._  
  
Three. Four. Five. _Pick up. Pick up..._ Ali rubbed her dreadlocks, feeling ready to explode.  
  
"Possum?"  
  
"Da."  
  
"Possum! Hey!" A soft chuckle. Then, "Are you all right? 'Cos you don't normally scream into my head..."  
  
"Yeh. Uh. Da. Ha ha..." She ran a nervous hand through her locks again and sat at the edge of the bed. "This is gonna be a really strange and random question, but just. Like. Answer it, if you don't mind."  
  
"42."  
  
" _Da, I swear to fucking god._ "  
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
"No, you're not sorry, and don't do this shit to me on a Thursday." A pause. "I could never get the hang of Thursdays."  
  
They had a little laugh over that, and then Böðvar said, "What is it, possum."  
  
"You said, once upon a time... god, how old was I then, five or six? That I had cousins in Iceland."  
  
A long pause. "Jæja, you do. Why, one of them try to look you up on the Headbook or something...?"  
  
"It's Facebook, and no, 'cos you said that you weren't allowed to talk to them, 'cos of Mum, you know, being black."  
  
A sigh. "Já."  
  
"Yeh. I don't think they even know I exist...?"  
  
"Shit, probably not."  
  
"Well... we're adults now, they don't have their guardians in the way, so... what are their names? Do you remember?"  
  
"I don't, but I have a picture of them when they were wee, it's got their names on it, if you hold on for just a sec..."  
  
"A sec" turned out to be five minutes, and Ali snickered as she heard Böðvar yelling at their sheepdog in the background. "AULI, YOU CUTE LITTLE ARSEHOLE, WHERE DID YOU HIDE MY SLIPPERS THIS TIME?"  
  
And then at last Böðvar was back on the phone. "OK possum. They're Magnús, Sören, and Dagnýr."  
  
 _Shit._ "...Dagnýr."  
  
"Já, Dagnýr."  
  
"Dagnýr Sigurdsson?"  
  
"Jæja."  
  
"About mid thirties or so?"  
  
"It's got their birthdates on the photo aaaand he and Sören were born in '84. They're twins. Fraternal."  
  
"Kayyyyyyyyyyy." _Fuck. Fuck. FUCK._ "Ta, Da. I'll... talk to you again soon, OK?"  
  
"OK. Hope finding your cousins goes well, possum."  
  
Of course he wouldn't know, since he rarely watched telly - Böðvar read a lot of books, constantly, something he'd instilled in his children. She wondered if her mum would tell him, since Medika _did_ watch telly, though typically avoided the news because "it's always sad things". Both her parents were _gifted_ , which was a big reason why they fell in love when they met three decades ago; they were both powerful empaths, and the news tended to make her mum cry.  
  
Ali hit "End" and let out a deep sigh. "Fuck. Fucking _fuck_ , bloody fucking _hell_..."  
  
She let the phone float back to where it had been sitting on the dresser, and then she waved her hand and the dresser drawer underneath it opened. She closed her eyes and opened them as the sketchpad that the one with the heavy accent had accidentally left in her truck. It had really been bothering her that she hadn't been able to return this, as Protocol Delta had given no names, no contact info. She'd brought them from Alice Springs to Sydney, which was one hell of a drive, and she _assumed_ they were somewhere there, _maybe_.  
  
 _I need to find them. I need to find_ him.  
  
A pillow hit her in the bum. She whirled around and watched as the pillow floated into Kenny's waiting hands.  
  
"Ali, what's going on?" Kenny put a hand on his hips. "And don't tell me nothing, Alinta." _Because we both know it's not nothing._  
  
"That missing scientist we saw on telly is my cousin."  
  
" _What?_ " Kenny's eyebrows shot up. "What the -"  
  
"OK, listen, Kenny? Don't say _shit_. To anyone. I think I know _something_ but I'm not sure what I know, I only know that the little bit of it is bad -"  
  
"OK, so maybe you should call a hotline -"  
  
" _I fucking can't._ " Ali vehemently shook her head. "This is..." She took a deep breath. "Something's going on, I don't know what, and I can't tell you the little bit of what I do know about it, _I'm sorry_ , but calling a hotline, telling the government, it just." She took a deep breath. "Might make things worse. It's a gut feeling, but my gut is rarely ever wrong."  
  
"Yeah." Kenny nodded. "I know." He frowned. "What are you going to do?"  
  
"I don't know. I don't _fucking_ know."  
  
He gestured with his head at the sketch pad. "What you got there?" He held out his hand and the pad sailed across the room over to him. He started flipping through it. "Oh holy fucking _shit_ , Ali, there's even a fucking sketch of him."  
  
" _What?_ " Ali hadn't looked beyond the first few pages, feeling like she was intruding on something deeply personal.  
  
There it was. A colored pencil sketch of Dagnýr Sigurdsson, who she'd seen for all of two minutes on telly but his face was stuck in her head now. He was dressed like a wizard, summoning a giant serpent. A serpent that looked like it was made of space, its scales all rainbow galaxies and nebulas, with starry voids in between. Eyes of fire. The date "2008" was scrawled in the corner, with a strange runic-looking symbol that she guessed was a signature.  
  
 _That was one of my cousins in the truck, and he has his brother's kids._ She closed her eyes and she could _almost_ see it. Some geezer bloke, like Jer but with longer hair and a longer beard and taller, handing the babies over. _"Keep them safe. Keep_ yourselves _safe. Good luck."_  
  
Then the feeling like she was being SHOVED, enough that she had to lean against the bed to hold herself steady. The mental image of a door slamming and the same accented voice from the truck: _Don't you EVER fucking do that again._  
  
Ali could smell fire, but nothing was on fire. Then the smell was gone.  
  
That did nothing to deter her resolve to find him. If anything, it made it stronger. _He's like me._ Her heart was racing again. _He's like me..._  
  
 _"We've got elf blood, you know. It's magic."_ A memory of Böðvar after a few beers, watching the sunset. _"Yer mum, she said she saw it when we met."_  
  
Ali had always thought he was joshing, the same way he liked to joke about wrestling polar bears back in Iceland and - on his rare trips out into civilization - enjoyed taking the piss out of American tourists by pretending he was Steve Irwin, but the memory gave her a chill now, remembering again the bloke in the truck with the long, long black hair and silver eyes, the beautiful voice, where Ali's first impression was _He's not human. He was alive during the Dreamtime_ , followed by _I know him, somehow. Some_ when.  
  
And of course, she'd dismissed it as _crazy fucking shit_ , even though she'd learned over the years that her impressions were rarely wrong.  
  
Ali pinched the bridge of her nose. _I have no idea how to even start._ She had a feeling that if the one with the weird accent was her cousin (" _IF_ ", she thought to herself, seeing quotation marks), and he was on the run for something connected to his brother's disappearance, he would be using an assumed identity.  
  
It occurred to her then there was probably someone in Apollyon Enterprises who _did_ know, and she would be risking her job if she went digging, because that in and of itself was a violation of Protocol Delta, never mind the ways she'd already violated the protocol just by interacting with the people she was transporting. She was the breadwinner, Kenny was mostly a stay-at-home dad with the occasional photography job that didn't pay much, and if she got fired from her job times would be rough for awhile.  
  
Not to mention that whatever was happening was probably dangerous. If her cousin Dagnýr was taken by god-knows-who and one of her other cousins had to go on the run and take the kids, well... that was some pretty heavy shit. They had run afoul of some bad people, clearly, and she would potentially be putting herself and her boyfriend and kids in danger for family she didn't even know.  
  
And yet, she remembered the haunted look in those brown eyes, the thousand-yard stare, the feeling of utter defeat and _hopelessness_ rolling off him and his companions (lovers?). She had family in trouble, who felt lost and alone in the world.  
  
Family that had been stolen from her.  
  
 _Let me see what I can dig up without getting sacked._ But that could wait, as Kenny was dragging her out of the bedroom now, to where Metallica and Megadeth were waiting to be read their nightly bedtime story.  
  
  
_  
  
  
 **Akureyri, Iceland**  
 _September 2020_  
  
It was Tuesday the twenty-second, but not any typical Tuesday. Sören and Maglor had their usual classes at Logifugl Listaskóli, the studio Sören owned - Sören taught art classes and Maglor taught music - but today was Sören's two-year wedding anniversary with Dooku, and the one-year anniversary of Sören, Maglor, and Dooku's triad handfasting, performed in Scotland by Sören's aunts Gitta and Jane.  
  
Gitta and Jane, who were now immortal, as they were, but while Sören, Maglor and Dooku still had a few years left in Iceland before people would start wondering why Dooku was approaching eighty and "Alejandro" turning "fifty" and not aging, Jane's terminal cancer had been healed by Vanimórë's blood and Gitta and Jane had to leave their bed-and-breakfast in Scotland to not cause a stir; Sören's cousin Ari - on the other side of his family - was now running it. Charlie Audley, the family's "guardian angel" in MI6, had arranged a fake death for the two women, and once a month or so Sören got a call from Gitta's new number.  
  
Today, as Sören and Maglor were pulling in front of their three-bedroom house, they saw a drone fly over the backyard, meaning a drop from Charlie's department. There was a package, which they started opening once they got inside - it was gift-wrapped.  
  
Right then, Sören's phone went off.  
  
"Sören!" It was Gitta's voice. "Happy anniversary!"  
  
"Awwwww, you remembered!" Sören immediately felt like a dumbass for saying that.  
  
"Well of course I did, I performed the ceremony. Did you get my present?"  
  
"Oh... that's..." Sören looked at the gift-wrapped package. "That's what just arrived?"  
  
"Yes, I asked our 'mutual friend' to make sure it got to you." That "mutual friend" was of course Charlie.  
  
"We haven't opened it yet, we just got in..."  
  
"Oh that's OK, I can't talk too long, we're about to go on our after-dinner walk on the beach."  
  
Sören beamed. He'd received photos of Gitta and Jane a few months ago, where Jane was back to a healthy weight, the two of them living in Malta under assumed names. "You still in..."  
  
"Malta? Yes. We'll be here for awhile, I think, before it's time to go again. It's so gorgeous here, you should visit sometime."  
  
"Heh. Well, we may end up doing more than visit, you know, later." Sören still didn't like to think about that, even though he knew it was inevitable - Iceland would always be home. "We'll see where we end up." They still hadn't decided on where they'd move to next, since that was a ways off yet as far as they were concerned, and a sore spot.  
  
"You'd love the food and all the gorgeous people. Alejandro would love the beaches. Dooku would love the culture and the history, most likely."  
  
"I miss you, you know."  
  
"I know. We miss you too. So think about coming to see us sometime soon-ish, OK?"  
  
"I will. And _takk_ , so much, for the anniversary gift. That was very thoughtful of you, whatever it was."  
  
"You're welcome. Give your husbands my love. And love from Jane too."  
  
"I will." When the phone call ended, Sören told Maglor, "That was Gitta -"  
  
"I know." Maglor nodded. "Shall we open this?"  
  
"Let's wait for Nico to get back."  
  
Ion Nicolae Dooku was at the grocery store, and once he got inside he used the Force to move the bags into the kitchen, even though he was capable of carrying them himself, because he wanted to embrace both his husbands. And of course, their dog Huan and cat Snúdur - immortal like they were - came up then, not wanting to be left out of the pettings.  
  
"We've got a package from Gitta and Jane," Sören said, feeling as excited as Huan looked. "Do we open it now or after dinner?"  
  
"How about while dinner is cooking?" Dooku asked, and then he looked at Maglor. "Your assistance is required in the kitchen, Macalaurë."  
  
Maglor raised an eyebrow, but grinned and followed Dooku into the kitchen. While they worked in the kitchen, Sören sat and sketched for awhile, with the cat and dog on either side of him on the couch.  
  
When they'd gotten dinner started, Maglor and Dooku came back into the living room and Dooku carefully, neatly unwrapped the package.  
  
"You're not just gonna rip it open?" Sören asked.  
  
Dooku gave him a look. "I'm not a barbarian like you."  
  
Maglor hissed, " _Hells_ ," under his breath just as Sören replied with, "Hi not a barbarian like you -"  
  
Dooku used the Force to crumple the gift wrap he'd gone to such trouble to neatly pull off the box, and throw it at Sören.  
  
"You walked into it," Maglor said.  
  
"SILENCE."  
  
Sören snorted.  
  
Dooku cut open the box. There was a small photo album on top, which Sören used the Force to pull out and into his waiting hands. Then there was a beautiful wreath inside, resting on top of a crocheted blanket, with a note saying that Jane had made the wreath and Gitta had made the blanket.  
  
The blanket went over the back of the couch, adding a nice homey touch to the living room, and went well with the sea colors of their decor. The wreath had seashells, driftwood, sea glass, and various dried flowers.  
  
The photo album started with pictures of Gitta and Jane - the three men choked up to see them so happy, Jane glowing and healthy, looking far younger than her seventy-one years. They had a lovely little beachside cottage in Malta, a patio garden, and there were photos of the inside of their cottage, decorated much the same way their living space in the bed-and-breakfast manse had been. There were pictures of their elderly cats Picard, Riker, LaForge and Crusher - immortal like they were. Pictures of Gitta and Jane cuddling with the cats, cuddling with each other, Gitta being silly and Jane being dignified and serious at various places of historical and aesthetic interest in Malta.  
  
"It's so nice to see them doing so well." Sören used the Force to bring over the box of tissues.  
  
Once again, Sören felt a sharp pang. He'd had a close call with Gitta and Jane - after his parents died, he'd been raised by his father's sister Katrín and her husband Einar, and from what he'd been told years later Katrín and Einar had prohibited Gitta and Jane from being in contact with the children because they were lesbians. Their attempt at ensuring heteronormativity had backfired in the most spectacular way possible - the latest evidence of this being their own son Ari was engaged to be married to a man named Harrison. But it had robbed Sören, his twin brother Dagnýr, and their transgender sister Margrét of the support they'd needed growing up, grieving the loss of their parents. Sören vaguely remembered hearing about an uncle, his mother's youngest sibling, and wondered now what became of him. He'd assumed growing up that Gitta had not been in touch due to disinterest, and he'd learned that assumption was painfully wrong. But he couldn't be sure with his uncle, if he was even still alive. As many years as Einar had been dead, and Katrín had joined him in death in 2017, they still owned space in his head. _You're worthless, a waste of space, nobody wants you._ Gitta and Jane had wished they could have raised them - Sören often wondered how things would have been different if they did - but he couldn't guarantee the same warmth from his uncle.  
  
At least he had Gitta and Jane. He'd almost lost them, getting to meet them just as Jane was dying of advanced cancer. Now neither of them would die. Someday, they might all live together. _My moms._  
  
In the meantime he had the closest thing he'd ever had to father figures, in his husbands. They sensed his ache and pulled him close between them and Sören reached out to touch both of them, admiring the two most beautiful men he'd ever laid eyes on. Dooku, a retired barrister of seventy-one, though he looked closer to late fifties or early sixties, sporting short silver hair and neatly trimmed silver beard, dark eyes, olive-skinned, six-five barefoot, a lean, muscular build that he kept trim through regular physical activity, a deep-voiced, elegant Englishman born to exiled Romanian nobility. Maglor... an Elf, though he had not known that at first. Closer to seven feet tall, dark hair to the middle of his back when glamoured, to his thighs when not, pale with the build of a soldier, pointy ears usually hidden by his hair, and the voice of an angel.   
  
Sören had met Dooku while he lived in London, at an exhibit of his art, and the two had instantly formed a connection, even though they were very opposite in personality. Dooku was the second love of Sören's life, the first being "Alejandro" who had left claiming he was in an arranged marriage, then had crashed back into Sören's life after he and Dooku were married to explain the truth. And they had become a triad.   
  
But the truth was more complicated than even Maglor had been aware of. Maglor was one of Sören's ancestors - his son Tindómion had lived in Iceland during the 1600s under the name Tindri Magnússon, burned as a witch. He'd had one issue, Finn Tindsson, a Lutheran preacher. And Sören himself had been an Elf in a past life, along with Dooku - the legendary Fëanor and Fingolfin, in an incestuous triad with Maglor, all consenting adults, in the First Age, which had ended in tragedy. Sören had reincarnated down his family line, with Dooku being born into a Romanian family that also had rumors of changeling lineage. They had been punished by the Valar, along with most of the House of Finwë. Maglor had not known who they were, initially - they themselves had not known, until all was revealed in August 2019 with the help of Gandalf, disguised as a human named Brian Proust, one of Dagnýr's colleagues at the University of Toronto.  
  
The Doom had not been able to keep the three of them from re-aligning, and Vanimórë had come to make sure they could never be split apart again. Vanimórë had left for the Dagor Dagorath - Sören wondered if it had happened yet - but he had come from another universe and he could travel between them. Sören had seem glimpses into a few other worlds where Vanimórë was helping to fix things there, too.  
  
Sören still missed Vanimórë, terribly. He couldn't think about the subject of immortality without thinking of the one who had given him immortality.  
  
"Dinner's almost ready." Dooku planted a kiss on Sören's brow.  
  
"Do you need my help...?" Maglor glanced at Dooku as he got up.  
  
"Why don't you set things up like how I discussed with you in the kitchen?" Dooku was poker-faced, but Sören saw the glint of mischief in those dark eyes, and Dooku gave Sören a little smile before he ducked out.  
  
"Hey Sören, go in the studio for a minute," Maglor said.  
  
"Why? Whatcha doing?" Sören asked.  
  
"Just... do it."  
  
Sören blew a raspberry at him, but did as he was told, with Huan and Snúdur following behind him. Sören flomped onto the nest in the corner of the combination art and music room and the Icelandic sheepdog/Corgi mix climbed on top of him, lapping his face, and that was how Maglor found them a few moments later, smiling fondly.  
  
Sören came out. They usually ate in the kitchen-dining area but the living room was set up with blankets and pillows spread in front of the fireplace, a fire going. It was a cool night and just starting to rain, so the fire was cozy. Candles were lit in frosted glass tealight holders on the fireplace mantle, except for the last one in the center. "You can do the honors," Maglor told him.  
  
The last candle, in a stained glass tealight holder, was a memorial. There was a box of the ashes of Dooku's cat Dragos, who'd died of kidney failure in old age before Vanimórë had come along. There was a jar of dirt from the farm Tindómion had owned, where his ashes had been scattered. There was a small bottle of ashes, some of the remains of Claire James, a girl Sören had met and fallen in love with back in 2003, who had killed herself over the holidays in 2004. She had not just been some random crush, but there had been something fated about them meeting each other, and Sören knew he, Maglor, and Claire were together in other worlds, he'd seen it. In another interesting twist of fate, Sören had become friends with Claire's cousin Harrison, who was marrying his cousin Ari. Vanimórë had promised they would see Claire and Tindómion again, in France in 2047. But in the meantime, Sören missed Claire, and Maglor missed his son, and they took each other's hands as the flame danced in their memory.  
  
Dooku brought out a tray. Sören clapped his hands excitedly like a big kid at the pot of fondue, and the things to dip in the fondue - pieces of French bread, bacon, grilled mushrooms, fingerling potatoes, roasted cauliflower and zucchini. There was wine to go with the fondue. As he set it down before the fire, Maglor started the stereo system, and Sören smiled as Anita Baker came on.  
  
It was an entire playlist of sensual, romantic music - Marvin Gaye, Sade, Maxwell, Usher, D'Angelo, Toni Braxton, Jill Scott, The Weeknd.  
  
They fed each other like newlywed lovers, dipping the bread and bacon and vegetables into the melted cheese and putting it in each other's mouths, licking and sucking cheese from each other's fingers, stealing kisses between rounds at the fondue pot.  
  
But there were also moments of comedy, with Huan and Snúdur coming over to beg. Huan eventually stole a piece of bacon, running off with it. Exasperated, Dooku threw a piece of bacon across the living room for Snúdur to catch, and Snúdur dragged his "prey" off and left them alone.  
  
When the fondue and its accompaniments were polished off, they cuddled up together with wine, watching the fire. Sören was already horny, and feeling warm.  
  
Warm and horny enough that when Dooku and Maglor went into the kitchen to take care of dishes and bring out dessert, Sören stripped, and they came back to find him looking like dessert, naked and fully erect, propped up on one elbow.  
  
Dessert was chocolate fondue with fresh fruit to dip in the chocolate, and Dooku and Maglor decided to follow Sören's lead and also get naked. Sören "accidentally" spilled chocolate on himself and Maglor cleaned it with his tongue, and soon Maglor and Dooku were eating chocolate and fruit off Sören's naked body, then Sören and Dooku eating off Maglor, and Maglor and Sören eating off Dooku, and then just grooming his silver pelt of chest hair with their tongues, nuzzling it, rubbing it. The fruit was gone before the chocolate fondue, and they poured the rest of the pot over themselves, taking turns licking each other clean. All three were erect now, and when the chocolate was gone they licked spilled wine from each other's bodies, at last taking turns kissing as they got in a position to rub their three cocks together, stroke them together.  
  
Licking each other all over had set the mood for a similar yet different kind of fun. After kissing and teasing each other's cocks for awhile, they assembled - Sören sucked Maglor's cock, Maglor sucked Dooku, and Dooku sucked Sören. Every now and again Sören would let Maglor's cock slip from his mouth and thrust his tongue into Maglor's opening, feasting on him there, licking slowly then fast. Maglor and Dooku followed suit, until all three were trembling, moaning loudly into each other, desperate for release.  
  
Dooku lay on his back and Sören poured lube over his cock, teasing them both again by rubbing his cock against Dooku's, but finally Sören turned around and impaled himself before laying with his back to Dooku's chest, Dooku's arms around him, holding him as he took his first few thrusts. Maglor pushed into him then, his cock rubbing against Dooku's inside Sören, kissing Sören again and again as Dooku kissed Sören's neck, kissing Dooku over Sören's shoulder, before Dooku tilted Sören's face so they could kiss, and Maglor licked and suckled Sören's nipples, playing with the rings in them.  
  
They fucked slowly, savoring, lost in a dreamy haze of sensual pleasure and loving connection. Sex with either of his husbands on their own was good, and Maglor and Dooku enjoyed their own private time as well, but there was something about the three of them together that was magnificent, something Sören compared to a work of art. Sören loved being between them, feeling them both inside him, holding them as they held him, the wild sweetness of passion. They let the edge build, keeping the pace slow, letting the tension wind and wind until they finally gave in to moments of pure, raw hunger, fucking hard, savage, making loud cries and howls and screams and shouts. Sören's legs were on Maglor's shoulders, and he went from losing his ability to speak English to losing his ability to make words altogether, not even able to scream as his orgasm took his breath away, coming in shuddery gasps.  
  
The feeling of both of them coming inside him - cock coming on cock - was one of Sören's favorite things. He made a little purring noise and drifted off on a cloud of bliss, coming back to Maglor petting him, Dooku trailing little kisses over his beard. Maglor skritched Sören's beard like a cat and Sören meowed, which made them laugh before Maglor kissed the tip of Sören's nose.  
  
They took turns kissing some more, sweetly and tenderly at first, then the kisses heated until they were roused to hardness again. Maglor ate his and Dooku's cum out of Sören as Sören and Dooku necked and petted, finally rubbing their cocks together, and Maglor took them both in his mouth, Sören and Dooku kissing even more hungrily, caressing each other, gently fucking Maglor's mouth. When they came together, the way Maglor shuddered and moaned as he swallowed them down let them know he came too - Sören could feel it across their bond, as well - and then Maglor came up to kiss them, letting them taste themselves on him, the taste of them combined delicious, salty-sweet.  
  
Dooku pushed Maglor onto his back and kissed him again and again, fingers playing over Maglor's body, as Sören licked Maglor's cock, just licking it, teasing him. At last Dooku grabbed Sören's curls and pulled him up to kiss him, tasting Maglor's precum on his tongue. Sören poured lube over Maglor's cock and Dooku poured it into Maglor's opening. Sören straddled Maglor's hips and sank down, and then Dooku got behind him and pushed into Maglor, his arms around Sören again, kissing his neck, tilting his face so he and Sören could kiss as Sören rode Maglor's cock and Dooku took Maglor, slowly.  
  
It was another haze of desire, the three losing themselves in sensation, in each other, that heady mix of vulnerability, surrender, and possession. Dooku reached around to play with Sören's cock as Sören's hands roamed over Maglor's body and Maglor's hands were on Sören, every now and again on what he could touch of Dooku, as well.  
  
Coming together, their orgasm was even more shattering than the ones before. Sören collapsed in Maglor's arms, and made a noise of deep contentment as he felt Dooku resting against him, nuzzling his curls. Being petted and held in the warm glow of the fire, the warm glow of orgasmic bliss, Sören slid into a nap.  
  
This time he was out for longer, and he woke in Maglor's arms, still snuggled into Maglor's chest, but Dooku was up, and Sören wondered where he was. Then he heard movement in the hall. He got up and walked over, naked, moving a bit gingerly after the use of his body.  
  
Dooku, completely naked, had chosen right then to do a home improvement project. Dooku had been an active senior before immortality, but since he'd taken Vanimórë's blood Dooku had reported feeling downright _young_ again, doing things he hadn't done in years like running, and now it seemed he had a surge of energy after sex, when usually he'd be asleep. "This has been bothering me since we moved in," Dooku said, gesturing to the hall closet, which was now empty, with everything in it in the hallway. The clothes rack was slanted, and there was a small hole in the closet wall. "I was thinking of where to hang the wreath Jane made, and the hall closet door seemed like the perfect place... and I decided then it was time to finally fix this."  
  
"Buckass naked."  
  
Dooku looked down, and blushed. "I... I suppose."  
  
"Mkay." Sören grinned. He peered into the closet again. This house had been where he'd spent the first four years of his life - it had become his again rather by not-an-accident or not-a-coincidence in August 2019 - and Sören vaguely remembered those same cosmetic errors being there. Dooku handed him a flashlight so he could get a better look at the hole in the wall, and Sören stepped into the closet.  
  
That was when he saw it. There was something _in_ the hole in the wall. "What in the fuck..."  
  
"What?"  
  
Sören switched places with Dooku. Dooku glared at it. Then he turned to Sören. "Hand me a stick."  
  
Sören put his cock in Dooku's hand.  
  
"Goddammit, Sören, I mean an actual stick. Like the kind you play fetch with."  
  
"You can play fetch with this stick."  
  
"I'm being serious."  
  
"Hi being serious -"  
  
"SÖREN."  
  
Huan had a stick near Snúdur's cat toys at Snúdur's cat tree, and it was just the right size to poke into the wall. Dooku pulled out a piece of paper that was wrapped up with an elastic band. He handed it to Sören.  
  
"I don't know what that is," Dooku said.  
  
"I don't either, but we'll find out, I guess."  
  
Dooku put his hands on his hips. "It makes me wonder if we'll find anything else in here."  
  
He started to take down the clothing rack, instead of just trying to lift the crooked side back to its proper height, and when he removed the rack, a panel fell out from the wall.  
  
Dooku shone a flashlight into the open panel, made a noise of surprise, reached into the wall and pulled out a notebook.  
  
Sören opened it. The writing was still legible, and the first page noted that it was the diary of Sigurd Tollasson, dated 1985. _Thirty-five years ago._  
  
"You look like you've seen a ghost," Dooku said.  
  
Sören slammed the notebook shut. "My father's, to be precise."


	2. All in the Family

**All in the Family**

  
  
  
Sören would have appreciated sleeping in the next day, but it was Wednesday and he had classes at the studio. At the usual time, Maglor drove them out to Logifugl Listaskóli. Maglor taught guitar today; Sören had ceramics in the morning and sketching in the afternoon. The ceramics class was one of Sören's favorites, and usually put him in a good mood. And there was some of that, but not the full glow - there was a strange feeling of foreboding Sören couldn't quite put his finger on, like something was about to happen and he didn't know what.  
  
Someone else might have dismissed this as paranoia, and particularly the kind of paranoia that people with PTSD lived with - indeed, for much of Sören's life, any periods of happiness were usually short-lived, pending a crash into disaster, and he had learned from repeat past experience to distrust it. He'd had calm and stability with Dooku for the better part of three years, and with Maglor along for the last year of it. Apart from the shakeup of Maglor coming back into his life a little over a year ago, which had resolved itself quickly enough, and the pain of missing Vanimórë, things had been very, very good. Almost too good. While Sören didn't quite believe time healed all wounds, he was starting to slowly snap out of the mindset that all good things in his life would create a sort of karmic backlash and leave him worse off than before.  
  
And yet, Sören was also Force sensitive, and he'd also learned from past experiences to trust his gut. He didn't always - which had caused him no small amount of trouble, most notably with his ex Justin Roberts - but he was trying to take Vanimórë's admonishment to heart, that he needed to trust his instincts more. And he couldn't shake the feeling that something was up.  
  
That feeling intensified when he and Maglor drove back from the studio and Maglor was more quiet than usual, his brow furrowed. Once back at their house in Akureyri. Dooku was writing on his laptop, and he got up to greet them at the door, hugging and kissing each of them. Dooku had tea ready, expecting them, and as they sat down to tea, with Huan and Snúdur trotting out for pettings, Dooku asked, "How was your day?"  
  
"All right, I guess," Sören said, and Maglor nodded. "You?"  
  
Dooku took a deep breath. He put his tea down, and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm sensing a disturbance in the Force. I'm not quite sure what it is, but..."  
  
"Same." Maglor nodded.  
  
Sören nodded too, with a sharp exhale. "Shit."  
  
"It's enough that I've been tempted to get out the _palantir_ and scry to see what it is," Maglor said, "but on the other hand... I don't know if I want to."  
  
"Yes, sometimes knowing what it is makes it worse," Dooku said. "I think the best course of action _for now_ is to let it go unless the feeling gets stronger... or what it is reveals itself to us. Which it may."  
  
"Yeah, things have a way of manifesting sooner or later." Maglor leaned back in his chair and sipped his tea. "In this case, my guess is sooner."  
  
"All we can really do is make a note of it, continue to compare notes on the status of the feeling, and distract ourselves in the meantime. Which, on that subject, Macalaurë, Sören, do you care to accompany me to the store? Figure out what we're doing for dinner?"  
  
Sören knew that his own best distraction was art, and he might as well paint with this nervous energy. "You guys can go. I'll stay here and try to paint or something."  
  
"Oh, good," Maglor said, smiling, reaching out to squeeze Sören's hand. "If you get in the zone, you want me to play on the harp while you paint, later this evening?"  
  
"That sounds great," Sören said. _Even better if we take a break to fuck like we normally do._ Creating together tended to make them both randy, and some of their most passionate encounters had been after a session of Maglor making music as Sören painted. Sören understood now that this was an act of power - the Flame and the Song working together, and the sex was more than just sex, it was magical. But even before he'd had that knowledge of what he was, and what Maglor was, they had a creative synergy that felt absolutely _right_ , and it was that rightness he craved now, when it felt like something somewhere somehow was starting to go wrong.  
  
Sören saw his husbands off with a hug and a kiss, and then he went to the one of the bedrooms that he and Maglor had turned into a studio, set up with musical equipment, art supplies, and a futon against a wall as a "nest" for breaks. Sören took out a blank canvas, put it on an easel, and got his oil paints, brushes, and cleaner ready. He sat in front of the canvas and meditated for a few moments, trying to get a mental image - what to paint. At first there was nothing. Then, even though it was the day after the fall equinox, he saw snow. Ice. He could _smell_ it, clean and crisp and somewhat burnt, what white diamonds would smell like.  
  
And then there was a knock on the door.  
  
Sören knew it couldn't be Dooku or Maglor, since they had their keys. None of his family had mentioned coming out for a visit, though he knew once in awhile they liked to surprise each other. His neighbors were friendly enough but he didn't have the closeness with them that he'd had with Vigdís and Páll back when he and Dooku were living in a cabin in Svalbarðseyri - they still got together with their old neighbors from time to time but it wasn't like Vigdís and Páll to show up unannounced. Sören wondered if it was Charlie. He had no idea who it might be, but he wasn't going to ignore it. The knock came again as Sören made his way down the hall to the front door.  
  
" _Ég er að koma. Haltu þér,_ " Sören called down the hall. Huan was starting to get worked up, wagging his tail and barking.  
  
Sören opened the door and there stood a sight he had not seen in months. A man close to seven feet tall, white hair down to his waist, silver eyes so light they were almost white. He bore a resemblance to Maglor, as if they were related - that was because they were, in fact, related.  
  
"Edenel," Sören breathed. "Uncle..."  
  
Edenel, who was once Élernil, the twin of Finwë. They had met very briefly at his sister Margrét's wedding in August 2019, and had a more intense encounter this time last year when Sören and his family visited Scotland. It was then that Edenel had told Sören, _I should have been your father. I would have loved you, I would have cherished you, and it grieves me to know Finwë had not._  
  
They'd had quite the reunion - Sören had not had that many rounds of sex, and that many orgasms, before or since. But it hadn't just been lust, though there was plenty of that. It was emotional, even spiritual, a powerful, shattering connection. It had felt incredibly right. It had been magnificent. Sören had only seen Edenel once since then, during the spring, a more brief visit. He'd regretted not getting to recapture that same magic.  
  
Here and now, as Sören took Edenel into his arms to welcome him in, his body began to respond immediately. Sören thought of the winter landscape he'd seen in his mind's eye, the way he could smell it. He could smell it again now but stronger, with a touch of musk, an intoxicating scent that made his cock stir. Edenel's arms tightened around Sören, and Sören could feel a quiver go through him.  
  
When they pulled apart - slowly, a bit reluctantly - Edenel's voice was husky. "Sören. Fëanáro. It is... good to see you."  
  
"You too. I've missed you." Sören nodded.  
  
"I've missed you too, Sören. I'm sorry that I haven't been by sooner. A lot has been going on."  
  
"I bet." Sören sighed, thinking of Vanimórë, missing him too. "Well, come in. Do you want coffee? Tea?"  
  
"I want another hug first, if you don't mind."  
  
Sören didn't mind at all, pulling Edenel close. His body practically _screamed_ to feel Edenel against him, not just sexually - though there was that - but how good it felt to have his family there, after so long.  
  
And yes, it was sexual indeed. Sören's cock throbbed, straining against his jeans. The scent from Edenel was getting stronger. "I, ah." Sören brushed a stray lock of hair out of Edenel's eyes. "Maglor and Nico are out at the store and should be back soon, you're welcome to stay for dinner... though..." Sören crinkled his nose and bit his lower lip. "I'm kind of in the mood for dessert first."  
  
With a growl, Edenel kissed him hard, kissed him like he'd been _starving_ for it. Sören could feel Edenel's own hardness pressed up against him, and, kissing all the way, Edenel began to march him down the hall, towards the bedrooms. As soon as they stepped in the master bedroom that Sören, Maglor and Dooku shared, with its king-sized bed, Sören and Edenel started undressing each other, clothes strewn haphazardly on the floor. Hands roaming over newly exposed flesh. Kissing again and again, panting, gasping, cocks already leaking precum, aching for relief.  
  
Sören climbed onto the bed and pulled Edenel down with him. Sören held Edenel tight, skin against skin, hard cocks rubbing together. He played with Edenel's hair as they kissed deep, losing themselves in lust, sensation.  
  
Sören let out a moan as Edenel began kissing and licking his neck, then moved down to lap and suckle at his sensitive pierced nipples. Edenel's fingers brushed and plucked one nipple while his mouth feasted on the other, and Sören arched to him, writhing, panting, already desperate to come and they'd just barely started. Their cocks rubbed more urgently and for a moment Sören felt he could come just like that, shuddering at the delicious thought of coming just from Edenel's cock on his.  
  
But that wasn't to be quite yet. Edenel's mouth moved lower, kissing, licking and nibbling Sören's stomach, then his thighs, before swallowing his cock down to the root, sucking hard. Sören cried out, grabbing the points of Edenel's ears, gently fucking his mouth - the talented mouth devouring him so hungrily, Edenel's eyes blazing with fevered passion.  
  
Sören was so close, but he wanted to please Edenel as well, feeling that gnawing pang of how long Edenel had been separated from his family, all the horror he'd been through, wanting to offer him comfort, solace... if not make him forget about the pain, make him remember how good it was to live and be loved, in the arms of his kin. He wanted to welcome Edenel home. He grabbed Edenel's hair and pulled him off his cock - glistening, flushed a deep pink, dripping precum, almost painful in its urgency - and he rasped, "I want to taste you, too."  
  
They got into position, heads between each other's legs. When Edenel took Sören back into his mouth, Sören's lips wrapped around Edenel's cock and he sucked for all he was worth, smiling a little at the sound of Edenel moaning with his mouth full, feeling Edenel quiver against him, at last thrusting into his mouth, not able to help it. Sören slipped a finger into him, finding the prostate right away, and rubbed in circles as he sucked harder, faster, reveling in how quickly Edenel was undone, moaning louder, filling his mouth with precum, hands roaming over him before fisting his curls, which encouraged Sören all the more.  
  
They came together, and Sören swallowed all that he could, savoring the taste that was like a mountain spring. He lapped the still-leaking slit of Edenel's cock, wanting every last drop, making Edenel shudder with aftershocks; he shuddered as Edenel returned the favor, licking his throbbing cock clean. They came up to kiss, holding each other, and the kiss made them harden up again right away. Without saying a word, Sören waved his hand and used the Force to bring over the lube from the bedtable, and poured some onto his hand, taking Edenel's cock into his hand to work the lubricant. Edenel coated his fingers and stuck two fingers into Sören, making Sören moan and buck up against him. They continued kissing as they readied each other, and kissed more deeply as Edenel pushed inside.  
  
Sören wrapped his arms around Edenel's back, and his legs around Edenel's waist. _Holding you with all of me,_ he spoke into Edenel's mind. Their eyes met, and Edenel planted a tender, feather-light kiss on Sören's brow, stroking his cheek gently. Then Edenel's teeth were in Sören's neck as he let him have it, pounding him into the mattress.  
  
"Oh shit, oh god, oh fuck, yes, _yes_ ," Sören cried out, rocking his hips back at Edenel, giving back as good as he got, fucking himself on the cock pumping away inside him.  
  
They groaned and panted and gasped and growled together, the slap of their flesh and the sound of the bed rocking against the wall almost as loud as their voices. Sören heard keys in the door, and Maglor and Dooku's voices down the hall, and then they were quiet, and then Sören saw Maglor in the doorway of the bedroom, watching Edenel and Sören fuck. Maglor's jaw dropped, and then his eyes met Sören's.  
  
Maglor knew, of course, that Sören and Edenel had been intimate a year ago; Maglor and Dooku were more or less fine with Sören having dalliances - such as his best friend Frankie, who had become his girlfriend since December. Maglor could be possessive, but he knew there were limits of applying that to Sören, who was not suited to monogamy.  
  
What Sören felt radiating from Maglor now wasn't jealousy, but curiosity... and hunger of his own. He could smell the irresistible scent of Edenel and it was affecting him. Even without that scent, the blood of the House of Finwë was a potent draw.  
  
Sören couldn't help smiling as he watched Maglor undress, and he joined them on the bed. Maglor grabbed Sören's face and kissed him hard, with both of them moaning into the kiss. Then Edenel kissed Maglor as well and Maglor shivered, breathing harder when they pulled apart, eyes like mercury.  
  
Maglor got between Sören and Edenel to take Sören's cock into his mouth as Edenel continued to fuck him, and that was how Dooku found them when he stepped into the bedroom a few minutes later.  
  
They'd had a foursome exactly once before - with Vanimórë, in August 2019, before Vanimórë had left to prepare for the Dagor Dagorath. Dooku was reserved, not one for casual sex; Vanimórë wasn't quite a stranger, but Dooku hadn't known him well enough then to go beyond anything but incidental touching. When Sören had encountered Edenel, he'd fantasized of having a threesome or perhaps a foursome, but had also considered it unlikely due to Dooku's shyness. Now, Dooku was naked, proudly erect, and joined them on the bed, kissing Sören passionately as he grabbed Maglor's hair, encouraging him to keep sucking Sören.  
  
The sheer debauchery of his husbands being present got Sören so worked up he knew he wasn't going to last longer, not with Edenel's cock stroking his prostate and Maglor's talented mouth on his cock, the lust in Dooku's dark eyes as he watched, idly stroking himself, taking it all in. When Dooku collected his precum onto his fingers and stuck them into Sören's mouth for him to taste Sören lost it, coming in Maglor's mouth, and the way he clenched around Edenel's cock set Edenel off a few seconds later, giving a wild cry as he erupted deep inside him. Sören cried out too, gasping for breath as the feeling of hot cum shooting over his sensitized prostate made his orgasm even stronger.  
  
Maglor kissed Dooku with his mouth full of Sören's seed, and Dooku groaned into the kiss, again as his cock rubbed up against Maglor's, both of them slick with precum. The sight of his husbands together made Sören recharge right away, and Edenel was hard again as well. But Sören didn't want to be greedy - Edenel deserved to be welcomed by his entire family.  
  
Sören rolled Dooku towards him and Edenel took Dooku's place over Maglor, kissing him, rubbing against him. Sören gently pushed Dooku onto his back and Dooku smiled as Sören's fingers walked through the silver pelt of chest hair, giving him a lascivious grin. "Hey, stranger," Sören husked. "Come here often?"  
  
Dooku chuckled and pulled Sören into a kiss. Then Sören straddled his hips and they both moaned as Sören impaled himself on the long, thick, slightly upcurved cock. Maglor also moaned as he watched Sören taking Dooku's cock, and he cried out as Edenel pushed inside him.  
  
Having gotten the first feverish fuck out of the way, Edenel was more gentle with Maglor, at least at first, slow and sensual. The sight of them inflamed Sören's lust, riding Dooku hard, harder when Dooku playfully spanked Sören's ass. "Naughty," he teased.  
  
"Mmmmm, you like it when I'm naughty, old man," Sören said, hands caressing Dooku's chest and stomach, savoring the feel of his chest hair, so deliciously _male_.  
  
"No, I don't like it," Dooku said, mischief in his dark eyes. "I love it."  
  
Sören leaned down and kissed him hard; Dooku's arms wrapped around him before his hands slid down Sören's back to slap his ass again. Sören cried out, and again when Dooku tugged a nipple ring with his teeth, before his tongue laved the sensitive peak, knowing from nearly three years together just what Sören liked.  
  
Sören was right on that edge again, the edge sharpening as he watched Edenel and Maglor, the two of them kissing, caressing, Edenel thrusting slowly. They were making love, not just fucking, and Sören's breath caught at the sight of it, burning it into his memory to preserve its beauty. He could feel across his Force bond with Dooku that Dooku was enjoying what he saw as well, almost overwhelmed by the eye candy of Sören on top of him and Edenel and Maglor next to him.  
  
It was when Dooku started feasting on Sören's nipples in earnest, with Sören clutching his head, riding as hard as he could, that Edenel took Maglor harder, faster, Maglor's nails digging into Edenel's back and hips, white-knuckled. Not able to help himself, Sören reached out and stroked Maglor's cock, and when Maglor let go, coming with a cry, shooting all over Sören and Edenel both, Sören gave into his own climax, spilling over Dooku's stomach and chest, the last shot over his throat. Dooku and Edenel came at the same time, and Edenel took Dooku's hand as he came, with Dooku squeezing his hand in return. Sören wondered about that as he rested in Dooku's arms, being pet as he came down from the glorious intensity of his orgasm.  
  
Sören came to a few moments later to Dooku and Maglor kissing - something he would never get tired of watching, making his spent cock stir _again_. Dooku was still covered in Sören's seed, and Maglor took a few licks of it off his chest, making Dooku groan appreciatively. Then Dooku's eyes met Edenel's and Edenel asked, "May I?"  
  
Dooku blushed, but gave a small nod. He moaned as Edenel began to lick the remaining cum from Dooku's stomach and chest - tongue brushing over a nipple - and then Edenel was licking the cum that Sören had shot onto Dooku's throat. Sören gasped when Edenel bit Dooku's neck, his cock _throbbing_ at that, and again when Edenel pulled Dooku into a kiss. Dooku's eyes widened as if in disbelief that this was happening, but then he moaned into the kiss, and Sören heard himself gasp, "Oh, _fuck_ yes." Just watching them kiss was almost enough to send him shooting off again, but Sören tried to keep himself in check, knowing it would get even better.  
  
Maglor pulled him in now, and Sören moaned as Maglor's cock slid against his, their hungry mouths kissing, lost in each other even as they stole glances at the erotic sight playing out next to him, Dooku and Edenel rubbing up against each other, kissing. When Edenel started kissing Dooku's neck and shoulder Sören leaned in to steal a kiss, then Maglor, and then Edenel kissed Sören and Maglor in turn.  
  
Feeling even naughtier than before, Sören's fingers brushed against the tips of his and Maglor's cocks, gathering precum, and with their mingled essence on his fingers he brought them to Dooku's lips to taste. Then went back for more, for Edenel to taste. Edenel did the same with his and Dooku's precum, feeding Sören and Maglor.  
  
That sent Sören out of his mind with lust, and before he knew what he was doing, he rolled from Maglor to position himself face down, ass up, his face over Dooku and Edenel's cocks, swallowing down as much of the two cocks as he could. Dooku and Edenel both cried out at the feel of Sören's mouth on them, and then Dooku initiated the kiss, with Edenel rocking harder against him in response. Sören felt Maglor climb off the bed and then Maglor was on his knees on the side of the bed and his tongue speared Sören, eating Edenel and Dooku's cum out of him, teasing Sören's prostate with slow, deliberate lashes of his tongue. Sören thrust against Maglor's face, fucking himself on Maglor's tongue, grinding his aching cock into the mattress, sucking Dooku and Edenel harder. Wanting, feeling like a creature of lust itself, insatiable. The smell of whatever cologne Edenel was wearing was almost unbearably delicious, adding to his torment.  
  
Before Sören could come from Maglor's tongue, Maglor stopped licking him and Sören felt Maglor get back on the bed again. Sören felt lube directly poured into his channel, which was already open and ready, and gasped with a full mouth at the shock of the cool liquid. Then he let out a whimper as Maglor mounted him and began to plow, taking Sören from behind, showing no mercy, fucking hard. Sören loved it, rocking his hips against Maglor's, crying out around the cocks in his mouth as Maglor grabbed Sören's curls, and crying out again as Maglor's free hand slapped his ass.  
  
Sören sucked Edenel and Dooku like his life depended on it. Feeling, indeed, like he would die if he didn't have their cocks in his mouth, as Maglor's cock drilled him. Sören had done a number of kinky things over the years, but this was so shamelessly wanton that it made his lust burn even hotter, wanting this, glorying in this side of himself, this side of all of them. And as rough and fierce as they all were in the fever and hunger of their need, there was still tenderness - Dooku's hand stroking Sören's beard, his cheek. Edenel petting Dooku's face, rubbing his chest. Maglor rubbing Sören's back, petting his curls before grabbing them. As Sören felt himself get closer he took Dooku's hand and Edenel's.  
  
Dooku and Edenel coming together in his mouth - the sight of Dooku and Edenel crying out together as they climaxed - set Sören off, coming hard, and the feel of Sören contracting sent Maglor off a split second later, collapsing on top of Sören, shaking from head to toe. Maglor's cries were almost musical. Now Sören's hands were in Maglor's, fingers linked, power thrumming between them, Flame and Song, fed by the power of the Star-Prince and Starfire. That last release was almost terrifying in its intensity, but also so exquisitely beautiful that it brought tears to Sören's eyes. In the profane, there was something sacred. In their most animal, they were their most divine, the embodiment of passion, like a force of nature.  
  
Edenel spooned Dooku and Maglor spooned Sören, and Sören snuggled into Dooku's chest. After a little while Dooku laughed softly. "At least I tried to be responsible and put the groceries away before I, ah, indulged," Dooku said when Sören raised an eyebrow.  
  
"So you knew right away? I guess we were pretty loud," Sören said.  
  
"Not just loud, but..." Dooku tilted his head, and Edenel smiled, nuzzling him. "Whatever that cologne is, I could smell it right away, and it... my body responded."  
  
"It's not cologne," Edenel said.  
  
Now it was Dooku's turn to raise an eyebrow.  
  
Edenel's arms tightened around the reincarnation of his nephew Fingolfin. "A long time ago, when my people the _Ithiledhil_ became what we were... we were affected by the tides of the sun and the earth. For lack of a better way of putting it, we go into heat a few times a year - the solstices, the equinoxes, and what modern Pagans call Samhain and Beltaine. I can of course have sex any other time, and do, but these times are when I _need_ to. The heat usually comes on within one to three days before the tide, and lingers one to three days afterward. All three of you are sensitive to the heat, which is not surprising since you are my blood, though the outcome of it... was a bit unexpected. But welcome."  
  
"I normally don't..." Dooku's voice trailed off.  
  
"I know, Fingolfin. And it is an honor that you did." Edenel gave him a little kiss. "I hope it won't be the last time."  
  
Dooku blushed.  
  
"Me either," Sören said, propped up on one elbow, fingers walking through Dooku's chest hair again before skritching his beard as if Dooku were a cat. "That was hot _as fuck_."  
  
Dooku laughed. He stopped laughing when Sören kissed him, and then Edenel kissed him, more insistently than before.  
  
"Shall I make dinner? We've been here awhile, and... I should be a good host to our guest." Dooku glanced at the time.  
  
"It's not food I'm hungry for right now." Edenel's eyes met Sören's.  
  
Sören and Edenel kissed, then Sören and Maglor, then the four reassembled so Maglor and Dooku could kiss, and Sören and Edenel were kissing again. Sören rolled Edenel onto his back and began to worship Edenel's gorgeous sculpted body with his fingers and tongue, wanting to explore every inch of him, _love_ every part of him. For a moment Sören's hand rested on Edenel's heart, wanting him to feel how much he cared, the love and acceptance of blood reunited with blood. Edenel's hand covered Sören's, and he brought Sören's hand to his lips and kissed it tenderly, before grabbing Sören's curls and pulling him up for a deep, fierce kiss. Sören kissed him back, then his mouth was on Edenel's neck, kissing, licking, and he _bit_ , feeling savage.  
  
It was going to be a long night. Dinner would probably be late, if at all. But right here was a feast, and Sören wanted all that the three had to give.


	3. Blood Sings

**Blood Sings**

For all that Sören wanted to sleep in yesterday, he made himself go into the studio, but today, there was no way he was going to be able to function. He didn't get to sleep until sometime around four in the morning. It had been well worth it - Sören had no regrets - but it wasn't simply lack of sleep when his alarm went off, it was the soreness of his body, the feeling of being well-used. Even now that he'd been immortal for over a year and found he could push his body harder than he used to, there were limits and he was coming up on that limit, needing rest.  
  
When his alarm went off he sent an e-mail out to his students, letting them know both he and "Alejandro" would refund them for the day, and Sören would also refund them for Friday, feeling like even if he felt more up to going on Friday, something about Edenel's visit necessitated taking the additional time off. Sören wasn't happy about needing to cancel - money was no longer a concern to him, with the fund Vanimórë had set up for them before his departure, not counting the money Maglor already had in reserve, so it wasn't that; Sören didn't like letting people down, or saying he was going to do something and not being able to keep his word. He had a very easygoing group of students for the most part, and he knew they'd understand taking a couple "sick days", but he still didn't feel great about it.  
  
On the other hand, he hadn't gotten to see his uncle much at all over the last year. Family was a priority to him.  
  
Sören went back to bed after sending out the e-mail. He snuggled into a nice cozy cuddle pile with Edenel, Dooku and Maglor, with Huan and Snúdur joining them on the bed. Sören drifted off to the sound of Snúdur's purrs, with Maglor stroking his curls, petting him in the same rhythm that Sören was petting the cat. When he woke up, it was to the sound of Snúdur meowing, and Dooku rolled his eyes, grumbling as he sat up.  
  
"Yes, yes," Dooku said, getting out of bed. "I will get you your food, cat."  
  
At the sound of the word "food" Huan bounced off the bed with an excited bark, as if to say "me too". Dooku chuckled and Sören laughed too.  
  
Sören, Maglor and Edenel sat up then, exchanging little good-morning kisses. Dooku poked his head back in the bedroom to ask, "Shall I make coffee?"  
  
"Please," Maglor said, nodding.  
  
Dooku started the coffee and then he came back in and began getting dressed. Sören made a moue of disappointment as he watched Dooku dressing, and Dooku noticed and said, "Well, we can't shag _all_ day."  
  
Sören, Maglor and Edenel also got dressed. Sören thought about taking a shower first, since he'd worked up a sweat last night, but he'd do that later. Maybe later would be a good opportunity to show Edenel the hot tub they'd installed out in the backyard, which was the right size for four people. _We installed a hot tub but hadn't gotten around to fixing the closet._ Sören snorted, amused by that, and then made a face, less amused, when he remembered his father's journal. He didn't want to think about that find right now.  
  
The four sat in the living room with coffee, and Maglor began to toss a ball for Huan to fetch. There was a bit of an awkward silence - everyone was still waking up - and at last Edenel spoke. "Thank you for... taking care of me last night," he said.  
  
"Our pleasure." Sören grinned.  
  
"Indeed, it was very pleasurable." Edenel smiled back, and reached out to rub Sören's knee; Sören felt his cock waking up, but tried to keep calm. Then Edenel's expression returned to neutral. "I did not come here just for pleasure, though, I'm afraid, I also came here on business."  
  
"Business." Dooku raised an eyebrow, and Sören could feel the touch of concern.  
  
Edenel nodded slowly, and repeated the word. "Business. Yes."  
  
"So... what kind of business?" Sören asked. "What's going on?"  
  
Edenel sat back in the chair and considered his response. "Well, Sören, a lot is going on. And I'd prefer to give the explanation not just in front of the three of you, but I'd like Margrét, Frankie and Kol to be here as well. Do you think you can arrange that?"  
  
Sören rubbed his beard. "Jæja, I can try. I don't know how soon they can get up here, Margrét would need to leave the bar for a few days, get someone to fill in, don't know how long that will take, might be three days, maybe even five days to a week..."  
  
"We don't have that long." Edenel shook his head. "I can talk to Kol myself, but I thought convincing Margrét would be better from you. If they can be here by this time tomorrow..."  
  
"How long would they need to be here?" Sören asked.  
  
"I have to confer with Kol about that, but they should plan on at staying here for a couple of days."  
  
"It sounds serious," Sören said.  
  
"It is serious, Sören. When you talk to your sister, impress upon her that this is an emergency."  
  
"In that case I'll call her now."  
  
With Margrét working evenings at the bar she owned, she typically kept late nights and slept in until afternoon. It wasn't quite noon yet, so Sören was loath to call her, but he did anyway, and after four rings Margrét picked up, her voice raspy from sleep. " _What._ "  
  
Sören couldn't help but smile - it was somehow strangely comforting that his sister was as much of a morning person as he was, which was to say not. "Hej, Margrét, sorry to bother you, I wouldn't be calling now if this wasn't important."  
  
"I swear to fucking god, Sören, if this is telling me to wake up and go look at something on YouTube -"  
  
Sören's laughter rang out. "Awww come on, Margrét, have a little faith in me. No, actually, it's. It's pretty serious." Sören took a deep breath. "Eden Dale is here." He used Edenel's "civilian name" over the phone, heeding Charlie's admonishment to watch what they said over lines of communication. "He says you, Frankie, and Kol need to come up to Akureyri as soon as possible, it's an emergency."  
  
"Is he all right? Are you all right? Dooku? Alejandro?"  
  
"I... well, I don't know what 'all right' means in this case. What I do know is that he does really mean 'as soon as possible', like if you can get here tomorrow or even tonight."  
  
"Oh Jesus Christ." Margrét exhaled sharply. "I have to get someone to cover me at the bar - "  
  
"Jæja, I know." Sören pursed his lips, feeling the annoyance across their Force bond. _Don't shoot the messenger,_ he pushed out to her mind.  
  
"About how long..."  
  
"He said at least a couple days. So I'd bank on three." Sören looked at Edenel across the room, who nodded.  
  
"OK. Hold on for just a minute."  
  
Sören heard Margrét put down the phone, and there was a muffled conversation between her, Frankie, and Kol. Margrét's voice rose and fell. Sören waited, feeling a bit agitated, which was both empathic blowback from Margrét and now Frankie, as well as his own feeling. He loved his uncle, and knew Edenel wouldn't be calling for this meeting without good reason, but it was a disruption to his routine, and Sören wondered what exactly it was that was that necessitated Margrét, Frankie and Kol being there for the announcement as well. He was a little annoyed that he had to wait to find out.  
  
_Is it the Dagorath?_ The pit of Sören's stomach rose. _Did something happen to Van?_  
  
God, he missed Vanimórë.  
  
Margrét got back on the phone. "We can be there tomorrow afternoon. So that's Friday, we'll go back to Reykjavik on Monday."  
  
Sören told Edenel, "They'll be here tomorrow, going back to Reykjavik on Monday."  
  
Edenel nodded. "That should be fine."  
  
"OK," Sören said to his sister. "Thank you for coming on such short notice. Looking forward to seeing you." That much was at least true; he didn't typically get to see his sister more than once or twice a month, though they kept in touch more frequently than that.  
  
"Mhm." Margrét was still annoyed. "Keep out of trouble, já?"  
  
"I'll try."  
  
Margrét ended the call, and Sören took a deep breath. He noticed then he'd been pacing around the room as he was on the phone - nervous energy. He sat back down between Dooku and Maglor.  
  
"Can we at least get a hint?" Sören asked.  
  
"It would really be better to get into it with everyone present, Sören. I'm sorry." Edenel frowned.  
  
Sören frowned too. "Yeah," he huffed. "Just... at least a little clue as to what's going on would have been nice. Now I'm gonna be all wound up till they get here and you can talk about it..."  
  
"Well then." Dooku put down his mug and got up from the couch. "In that case..." He got in front of Sören. "I believe it is time for your sword lessons, young man."  
  
Sören glared. "Fucking _seriously_ , Nico?" He adjusted his position on the couch, wincing a little. "I'm a bit fucked out, you can't give me a few more hours for my body to recover -"  
  
Dooku gave him a stern look. "Sören, my dearest, we have many powerful enemies who could strike at any time. I _assure_ you that they will not wait until you are feeling optimal before they do. You must be prepared to fight at any time, in any condition. So. Come." He gestured, and took Sören's hand, pulling him from the couch. "Let's dance."  
  
One of the things that Vanimórë had impressed upon Sören before he left over a year ago was that Sören needed to learn how to fight. Sören could hold his own in a barfight, but battling a trained warrior - especially one from an ancient time - was another thing altogether. So Dooku and Maglor had both been teaching Sören how to fight with a sword.  
  
Dooku took his fencing rapier down, and Maglor took his own sword and handed it to Sören. Sören felt the power thrum through it - a sword he had made long ago, in his life as Fëanor, a gift for his favorite son. It also, once again, felt ever so slightly wrong in his hands - this was Maglor's sword, Fëanor had made it but had expressly intended it to be for Maglor, right down to the enchantment that had gone into the sword. Sören could use it, and did - though he got the distinct sense that if it had been anyone but him, having been Fëanor once upon a time, the sword would work against them somehow - but it still felt like something borrowed, like he needed to have his own sword, or at the very least, something that wasn't energetically marked so strongly as someone else's.  
  
Edenel and Maglor followed Dooku and Sören to the backyard. They did some stretches first, and then Dooku asked, "Are you ready?"  
  
Sören shrugged. "I didn't want to do this in the first place, so I'm as ready as I'll ever be."  
  
Dooku gave Sören a fencing salute, and the two began to circle around each other.  
  
The dance began. Dooku went on the attack... and right away it was a feint. Sören had learned enough of his husband's fencing style to know to parry. Dooku gave a small smile. "Good," he said, before his remise. Sören parried again and then made his riposte, which Dooku dodged. Dooku lunged again, another feint that Sören had to parry.  
  
There was fire in Dooku's dark eyes, like burning coal. A predatory look that sent a frisson down Sören's spine. He hadn't wanted to spar, but there was always something about Dooku fencing that got his libido going, fire calling to fire. Since the days when they had been Fëanor and Fingolfin, sparring had added heat to their bond, and so it was now. Sören directed the anxiety of waiting for whatever Edenel had to say, and the annoyance of Dooku wanting him to spar when he was sore and tired, and went from the defensive to the offensive, charging.  
  
" _Good._ " Dooku's eyes flashed.  
  
Their feet moved faster now, swords clashing again and again. Attack, deflect. Attack, deflect. Dooku had the speed and agility of a younger man even before he became immortal, and now he was downright lethal with the energy that he had; one false move and Sören knew he could be seriously injured. Dooku knew it too, warning Sören "careful," that just a second too late would have consequences.  
  
Dooku had speed and agility... and Sören had power. Sören was all raw aggression now, drawing on his body's discomfort and his mind's disquiet as a sort of battery. He briefly recalled the ancient Viking berserkers, where they were not merely not slowed down by pain but pain inflicted on them made them fight even harder, feeding a frenzy. Sören could relate to that now, attempting to wear Dooku down, relentless. And still, Dooku put up a damn good fight, seeming equally determined to wear Sören down.  
  
Sören made a feint, and Dooku parried, then his riposte went to Sören's throat before Sören could parry. "Yield," Sören said.  
  
Dooku smirked, and Sören knew across their bond exactly what he was thinking: _My, how the tables have turned._  
  
Sören couldn't help chuckling, and gave him the finger; Dooku bent and kissed it, before patting Sören's shoulder.  
  
"My turn now," Maglor said, getting up. Sören handed Maglor back his sword, and then Dooku put his rapier in Sören's hand. Sören felt a little bristle of annoyance - he'd thought Maglor wanted to spar Dooku, as they did. They _liked_ sparring, usually managing a practice session at least every other day.  
  
But now it was Maglor who circled him. And Maglor was even more aggressive than Dooku had been, a match for Sören's own savagery. When Dooku and Sören sparred, it was always more of a dance, elegant and refined. With Maglor it was wild, like being inside a storm. The air seemed to crackle between them, as their swords swung and struck, the two moving back and forth across the yard.  
  
Sören always thought Dooku looked especially handsome while sparring, and Maglor took his breath away, his haughty, chiseled face even prouder as bloodlust surged through him. And then, noticing Sören noticing him, Maglor's tone was stern. "Watch my sword, Sören, not me." Maglor shook his head. "In this fight, treat me as an enemy. I am not an Elf to you, or anything humanoid. I am something to kill. I am something that wants to kill you." With that, Maglor lunged.  
  
Sören parried just in time, and took Maglor's advice to heart with a riposte. Maglor parried and attacked again, making a feint. Then a remise, when Sören deflected. It was hard for Sören to see Maglor as anything but Maglor, and then across their Force bond, Maglor showed him the Balrogs that had killed Fëanor, once upon a time. Morgoth, fighting Fingolfin in single combat.  
  
And then Edenel himself was reaching into Sören's mind. Sören saw the Orcs in the fighting pits. The Fell-wolves. Sören felt Edenel's pain, his fear, the endless years of torment n his captivity, fighting for his life. Sören drew on that, and the other memories, pure berserker rage. Maglor seemed to fade out of his sight and there was a shadow. Sören remembered what he had seen in the _palantir_ at his sister's wedding - his mother, attacked by Odin's sorcery. That last stand where his mother had given her all, drained of her life force, to blind Odin's eye to keep him from seeing her children.  
  
Sören snapped, whipping into a frenzy.  
  
In all the months that Sören had been learning swordplay from Dooku and Maglor, Sören had never defeated Maglor. It was frustrating, though Sören had a certain sort of resignation since Maglor had thousands of years of practice under his belt, including having fought in war. But now... Sören fought dirty. Feint after feint.  
  
Sören had learned from past experience that it was hard to use the Force and fight with a sword at the same time, with the amount of concentration that went into Force use as well as the necessary concentration when wielding a sword and paying attention to your opponent's. But now, he used the Force to throw his enemy, then when he fell, Sören attacked - met a parry, and pushed with the Force to hold his enemy immobile for that last remise, with the enemy pushing back, power sparking against power. When the tip of his sword was at his enemy's chest, ready to plunge, he heard Maglor say "I yield."  
  
The vision of the shadow passed and it was just Maglor again. Sören was shaking, and Maglor was as well. Their eyes met, and held. "Are you OK?" Sören asked, feeling a bit self-conscious at the dirty fighting, the way Sören had done exactly what Maglor told him to do. Feeling slightly ill at how close he'd come to stabbing him -  
  
"I'm fine." Maglor nodded. He took Sören's hand and got up. "I'm proud of you." He gave Sören a little kiss.  
  
Sören desperately grabbed for levity, and Maglor knew as soon as the words were out of his mouth. " _Hells,_ " Maglor said under his breath as Sören blurted out, "Hi Proud Of You..."  
  
Edenel tried not to laugh, and failed. Maglor shot his great-uncle a look, and Sören grinned at him. Edenel gave him a small smile, and then it was his turn to get up. He took Dooku's rapier from Sören's hand and gave it back to Dooku, and then he put an obsidian knife in each of Sören's hands.  
  
"I don't know how..." Sören looked at the obsidian knives, and then the knives in Edenel's own hands.  
  
"I know." Edenel nodded. "I will teach you."  
  
Edenel then spent the next while teaching Sören stances and motions. Once again drawing on the battle frenzy to move at lightning speed, like a ghost, too quick for the enemy to know what came upon them. It was exhausting, and Sören felt ready to keel over after the first drill, putting all the positions and movements together, matching Edenel's rhythm.  
  
"We will stop for now," Edenel said. "But while I am here the next few days we will do this again." He looked off into the distance. "Your life may depend on it someday."  
  
Maglor nodded. "He's right."  
  
They went inside and Dooku made tea.  
  
Usually Sören found tea soothing, but he was still shaken up from how close he'd come to shanking Maglor... the raw ferocity of their fight. Even though he'd done exactly what Maglor instructed he still felt bad. And not just because of how much he loved Maglor and never wanted to hurt him. He was, for the first time, afraid of this path he was starting down. Before now their legion of enemies had been more of an abstract concept, everything in theory. Now with Edenel here declaring an emergency, teaching him a new, brutal fighting technique, there was an urgency to it. Their war against the Valar, against Morgoth and Sauron, against Odin... it felt _real_. And Sören wondered what would come of it. His mind conjured up the image of Sarah Connor from the _Terminator_ franchise, battle-hardened, shell-shocked, paranoid. He didn't want to turn into a male Sarah Connor, roaming the Earth as covertly as he could, trusting no one, working to stop an enemy that no one even believed in, only supernatural beings instead of cyborgs and Skynet.  
  
Maglor started to rub Sören's back. "It's all right," Maglor said.  
  
Sören took a deep breath.  
  
"I feel as if I should apologize for coming by on such short notice," Edenel said. "I know this is a bit of a disruption to your usual routine..."  
  
And it was, but Sören waved his hand dismissively. "You're family," Sören said, and meant it.  
  
"Nonetheless, I don't want to keep you from doing as you normally do," Edenel said.  
  
"Don't worry about it," Dooku said. "You're always welcome here. I was about to ask you, actually, if you had any preferences for food, I'd like to make you something you'd enjoy."  
  
Edenel hesitated, and Sören could tell he didn't know what to say. Edenel didn't look like he'd been starving - wiry, but not gaunt - and if he was on the payroll of Apollyon Enterprises he definitely could afford to eat well. But Sören got the impression it was one thing to dine alone and another thing to have meals with a family.  
  
"Whatever you'd normally make is fine," Edenel said. "You have a reputation as being a very fine cook."  
  
Dooku blushed slightly. "I'm not sure where that reputation came from, but I do indeed try."  
  
"It comes from a few places." Edenel casually sipped his tea. "In at least a few other realities, you're a professional chef. I've had your cooking there."  
  
"I." Dooku blinked slowly. "What."  
  
Dooku knew, of course, that there were other universes than this - Sören's brother Dagnýr was a theoretical astrophysicist and had made a name for himself speculating on the existence of parallel universes, and that theory had been confirmed over a year ago by Vanimórë, who had claimed to come from elsewhere. When Sören had gotten to know Edenel during a visit to St. Andrews, Scotland a year ago, Sören had seen visions of a couple other universes. But it was one thing to know other worlds existed, and to have visions of them, and another thing to be told by someone that they'd visited other versions of you.  
  
"I've had more than your cooking as well," Edenel quipped, smirking as he sipped his tea again.  
  
Dooku turned red into his ears, and Sören and Maglor snickered.  
  
Then Dooku asked, "This isn't every reality, I take it? The chef career, I mean."  
  
Edenel caught that wording, and smiled. "No, Fingolfin, I've also encountered you as a professor. And you've been a lawyer, or a barrister, in other worlds as you were here before you retired."  
  
Dooku sat back in his chair. "Fascinating."  
  
Maglor opened his mouth, like he wanted to ask some questions, then closed it, thinking better of it. Sören reached out to squeeze his hand, knowing the issue of other worlds was something of a sore spot for Maglor, as well as for himself - Sören knew there were at least two universes where his evil, abusive ex from this universe, Justin Roberts, had killed him. Maglor had told Sören at one point that he was in hysterics when he found out, and Sören didn't like that news either. With all of the awful things that had happened to him in this lifetime, he didn't want to find out even worse things had befallen him. What he had to contend with here and now, the scars of his trauma, was bad enough. Worse, knowing that the Valar had sent him here to punish him.  
  
And still, he'd finally found some peace and happiness in his life. Finding his way back to the ones he loved, finding the goodness in this world - it was an act of defiance. The Valar were strong, but he was the Flame Imperishable, and he would _not_ give into them quenching that fire. He would not let them win. Not here.  
  
It made him _angry_ that they'd won elsewhere. And even more than that, that he was separated from the ones he loved, in those places. Even if it was only two - and of course it would not be only two - that was still too much. More than anything else he'd endured, it was _wrong_ to keep him from the people he loved. _His_ people.  
  
Sören turned his head and he and Maglor looked at each other. Their eyes met, and held. Sören knew he could feel the distress across their bond, and though Maglor was trying to contain it Sören could feel Maglor's distress as well. Sören gave him a quick squeeze and then Maglor glanced over at Dooku and said, "Nicolae, I can help you in the kitchen if you'd like."  
  
Dooku nodded. He got up, but first placed a reassuring hand on Sören's shoulder. _I would not want to live in a world without you being there somehow, my Fëanáro. It has always been you. It will_ always _be you._  
  
Across their bond, Dooku showed Sören the briefest vision of a world where Sören had been killed by Justin, one of Dooku's colleagues defending Justin, Dooku growing angrier as he got to know Sören posthumously through the case, seeing pictures, seeing Sören's art... falling in love with a dead man. Dying of the flu - as Dooku had feared dying during a severe bout of influenza in this world, a few years ago... but in truth, it was dying of a broken heart.  
  
Sören blinked back tears. It was just he and Edenel in the living room, as Dooku and Maglor set to work in the kitchen. Out of the corner of his eye Sören saw Maglor holding Dooku, rubbing his back.  
  
"Er, you want to watch something?" Sören felt awkward.  
  
"Whatever you normally do, Sören. I don't want to intrude."  
  
Sören patted for Edenel to join him on the couch. Huan and Snúdur came over, and Sören and Edenel pet the cat and dog while Sören looked at what was airing on different channels. He settled on the news, and wished he hadn't as there was yet another riot happening in Great Britain, which had fallen into some chaos post-Brexit. He'd only lived in the UK for a couple of years and wasn't very attached, apart from when he'd visited Scotland which he'd loved, but he knew Dooku _was_ attached - even as he'd come to love Iceland - and that seemed to be exactly what Dooku didn't need to overhear right now. The news then cut to the 2020 elections happening soon in the US, and more riots in protests, and Sören thought about the vision he'd had of a world where he was alive, in a place called Corvallis, Oregon. He wondered how his other self was handling all of the craziness there, if that was happening in other universes. That was in a way as unsettling as thinking about worlds where he was dead.  
  
"OK fuck this, I'm putting on a movie," Sören said.  
  
Sören and Edenel went over to the collection of DVDs. Sören was in the mood for something Disney, after the horror of global politics. _The Lion King_ was decided upon.  
  
That turned out to be even worse than the news. Mufasa's death scene made Sören start crying. The first blow was thinking of Finwë. Sören remembered a timeline where Fëanor and Fingolfin had a fraught, dysfunctional relationship with Finwë - Finwë blamed Fëanor for Miriel's death, and took it out on him; Fingolfin resented being Finwë's favorite son, not at all liking how Finwë treated Fëanor, and Fingolfin tried his very best to show kindness and friendship to Fëanor, which blossomed into passionate love. Yet, even though Finwë had been rather awful to him, Fëanor could never bring himself to fully hate his father, and indeed, tried repeatedly to court his favor. Finwë's death had given him mixed feelings, but mixed enough that it was still a devastating blow. There was deep regret for what could have been and what never was.  
  
The second blow was thinking of his own father in this lifetime, Sigurd Tollasson. Sigurd died in 1986 when Sören was not yet two - too young to have anything but the barest glimmer of a memory - but Margrét remembered him fondly, and their mother had been very much in love with him and spoke often of him after his death, telling the children stories about him. Such that when Sigurd's sister Katrín took them in after their mother died too, Sören had been expecting kindness from her, and was shocked to find out she was a bitter, hateful woman, even moreso when she was drunk. The coroner's report had listed Sigurd's death as a stroke, but Sören had learned via Gandalf's _palantir_ over a year ago that was not the whole truth. The Valar had sold Miriel's soul to Odin as payment to preserve their pantheon, and Miriel, as a Valkyrie now called Brynhildur, had fallen for one of Odin's warriors in Valhalla. They had been reincarnated as mortals, and Odin had cursed them for their defiance. It was when Odin started to go after the children that Sigurd and Brynhildur fought back. Sigurd had sacrificed himself, and now more than any other time thinking about it, Sören fell apart, a wound ripped open.  
  
Edenel knew without being told, and pulled Sören close, petting his curls. Sören snuggled into him, letting himself be coddled and soothed, needing this from the closest thing he'd ever had to a father. He remembered those words from Edenel, a year ago: _I should have been your father. I would have loved you, I would have cherished you, and it grieves me to know Finwë had not._  
  
"I would have loved you," Edenel repeated softly, stroking Sören's hair, his face, rubbing his back. "And I do love you, Fëanáro." He cupped Sören's chin in his hand and kissed him softly. Sören had half a mind to drag Edenel down to the bedroom and ride him, but he still needed just a bit longer to recover from last night - a few more hours at least - and even more than wanting sex with this gorgeous man, he wanted to be _held_. He wanted to be rocked, and cuddled. And that was what Edenel did.  
  
Some moments later, Edenel broached one of the wounds that had been ripped open. "Your father in this life..."  
  
"I never knew him." Sören swallowed hard. "He didn't leave or anything, he was killed -"  
  
"By Odin." Edenel nodded.  
  
"You know about all of that."  
  
"Yes, we have a bit of a case history on your family, for lack of a better term." Edenel continued petting him. "He was a good man, it is a shame."  
  
Sören nodded. Then he sighed, feeling the need to open up while the dam had burst and the feelings were flowing. "The night before you arrived... we found something. I lived in this house till I was four, it's changed hands, but apparently whoever owned this house between times didn't find the thing we found. My father had a journal that he hid in the wall, and there's some rolled-up piece of paper that we also found with it."  
  
"I assume you don't know what that piece of paper is."  
  
"No." Sören exhaled sharply. "I keep getting the urge to find out what it is, and to start reading the journal, but... I don't. Because of this." He gestured to his heart, as more tears flowed down his cheeks. "It's going to hurt."  
  
"And yet, you might do yourself an injury _not_ exploring, Sören." Edenel placed a hand on Sören's heart, and kissed Sören's brow. "I think you should start reading it, and see what the paper is. You might find something important. Something necessary." There was a heavy pause. "It feels as if you were meant to find it, especially with..." His voice trailed off.  
  
"Especially with what?" Sören raised an eyebrow. "The thing you can't talk about yet?"  
  
Edenel simply nodded.  
  
Sören's jaw set. He knew Edenel was right, and that bothered him. He'd had a nice peaceful life for the last year. Whatever all _this_ was... it felt like he was tied to a train track and the train was coming. He'd wanted at least a few more years for things to be OK before he had to start thinking about the Valar, Sauron, Odin.  
  
They went back to watching the movie. Sören only half paid attention, resting in Edenel's arms, cradled like he was a precious child, continuing to be pet, Edenel's touch comforting as well as vaguely arousing.  
  
But though Edenel holding him was soothing, Sören still felt that unsettled feeling in the back of his mind and at last Edenel said, "That isn't all that's bothering you, is it?"  
  
Sören sighed. "No." He looked down. He decided honesty was the best policy, between Force sensitives. "The talk of other universes, earlier. I..." Sören frowned. "It makes me sad, knowing I'm dead some places."  
  
"Not everywhere." Edenel patted Sören's shoulder. "I was going to wait for the right time to show you this, but now seems like the right time." He reached for the satchel he'd brought with him.  
  
"I have been busy the last year," Edenel told Sören, "helping Vanimórë keep the promise he made to you, that he would try to save your life where he could, help nudge you to where you needed to be, with your family. So I have seen you across a number of worlds, now."  
  
" _Really._ " Sören let out a low whistle. "That sounds like a lot of work for one person."  
  
"It hasn't entirely been me. I've had help." Edenel looked like he wanted to identify one of his helpers, then thought better of it. Then with a smirk he said, "Fëanor also got... rather interested, and there are a couple of worlds where you have encountered he, and Fingolfin, helping you."  
  
"And most likely 'helping' me," Sören said, recalling his dream-visit to the Timeless Halls where he'd had sex with the ascended Fëanor.  
  
"I think that rather goes without saying."  
  
Sören laughed. It felt good to laugh.  
  
Edenel rubbed his shoulders. "In one of the other realities where I met you, we eventually had a discussion about things and you asked me to give you - specifically, this world's version of you - something."  
  
Sören raised an eyebrow, and waited.  
  
Edenel opened the satchel and produced a small envelope.  
  
Sören opened the envelope. It was a series of photographs. The first photograph made him almost drop the photos to the floor, as he let out a gasp, a shiver going through him. There was Claire James, who he had not seen since 2003 - dead in this reality - and she was wearing a white wedding dress, her hair done in a braid. She was arm in arm with Sören, who was wearing a suit with a dress kilt. They were grinning from ear to ear. The back of the photo was in Sören's handwriting. _Our wedding, St. Andrews Scotland, November 22nd, 2009._  
  
"You're still married," Edenel said, nodding. "You celebrated ten years last year."  
  
Sören's jaw dropped.  
  
The next photo was of a baby girl, who had dark hair and dark eyes, full lips, but otherwise Claire's facial features. Sören's eyes burned with tears. He looked at the back of the photo. _Brynhildur Sörensdóttir. 1 year old, February 2012._  
  
Another photo where Brynhildur was a small child, and looked even more like a cross between Claire and Sören. She was at a martial arts studio, wearing a white robe, fighting with a staff, looking as fierce as a small child could. The photo was from 2019.  
  
The next photo was of Sören, Claire's cousin Harrison James, and a young-looking Asian man who Sören didn't recognize, sitting in T-shirts and pajama bottoms, with bottles of beer and a coffee table of snacks, holding game controllers. They were laughing at something. There was no writing on the back of the photograph, and Sören wondered about it.  
  
A photo of Harrison and Ari dressed up in tuxedos, looking handsome together. Sporting matching rings. The back of the photo read _Harrison and Ari's wedding, June 2018._  
  
So the Asian guy wasn't Harrison's boyfriend, probably, but was still someone important enough for another version of him to feel he needed to see that photo. Sören didn't understand.  
  
An intimate photograph of Claire and Frankie, kissing, embracing, bare breasts pressed together. Sören's breath hitched, and he felt his cock stir at that. _Fuck, that's hot._  
  
A photograph of Sören, Dooku, and Maglor snuggled together in bed, feet sticking out of the covers, cats on the bed. Maglor was holding a stuffed rainbow unicorn, which made Sören laugh out loud, snorting. _I have to get him one of those,_ Sören thought to himself.  
  
A photograph of Sören, Maglor and Claire, cuddling, Maglor's arms around both of them, looking perfectly content.  
  
A photograph of Dooku and Claire having tea, and Claire making bunny ears over Dooku's head.  
  
And the final photograph. Sören was in a group photo with Dooku, Maglor, Frankie, and Claire. The back of the photo read _My loves. 35th birthday, November 2019._  
  
Sören was choked up. He looked back and forth between the photos, hands shaking, tears flowing silently. At last he looked up at Edenel, putting the pictures back in the envelope.  
  
"He - you - wants you to keep them," Edenel said.  
  
"If you see him - me - whatever - please tell him I said thank you." Sören closed his eyes and let out a little sob.  
  
Sören put the envelope on the coffee table, and Edenel held out his arms. He pulled Sören close again, rocking him, petting, letting Sören cry at the relief that there was at least _somewhere_ things had worked out, where things seemed OK. And the flood of tears at knowing he had a daughter, that he had named her Brynhildur after his own mother. He was already proud of her, that fierce little scowl on her face as she held a staff taller than she was.  
  
They didn't get to finish the movie, since dinner was ready not long after Sören reviewed the photos. Sören tried to pull himself together in the bathroom, splashing cold water on his face. And dinner got his mind off things - it was lamb, herbed potatoes and mushrooms, served with wine. Huan and Snúdur begged, and Dooku relented to give them a bit of lamb. Dooku and Maglor had on Mozart with dinner, which got them talking about history and "kids these days" and then Maglor and Edenel relating even more ancient history, from their separate journeys in different parts of the world.  
  
"Rome gets, well... romanticized," Maglor said, rolling his eyes. "For its day there were worse places to be, but it was not as impressive from the inside."  
  
"I bet," Dooku said, making a face.  
  
"What did you do there, anyway?" Sören was curious.  
  
"I could have lived as one of the noble classes but that would have attracted a certain amount of attention and expectations that I didn't want. I wanted to blend in and be left alone, mostly. So I was a carpenter." Maglor sipped his wine. "But even though I wanted to blend in and be left alone, I couldn't _really_ when I saw various injustices happening. That was something you both drummed into my head quite well back in the day, was a sense of justice, a strong _dislike_ of unfairness. I couldn't ignore hunger, for example, and I ended up feeding groups of people with lembas."  
  
Dooku's eyebrows went up, eyes widening as if in some sort of recognition.  
  
Maglor went on. "I also had a few rants at wealthy nobles, that others overheard, criticizing them, encouraging them to be kinder to others, especially the poor. One day I saw moneychangers ripping people off and I overthrew their tables." He frowned. "I stayed in the city even after a companion died... and what made me leave was when a supposed friend turned me into the police, exposing my ears. I escaped with my life. They would have crucified me."  
  
"You mean to tell me you're Jesus Christ?" Dooku's eyes narrowed.  
  
Maglor gave a guilty grin, finishing his glass of wine. "I was surprised many years later to find out I was enough of a legend that people were still talking about me, though it seems what happened was rather a bad case of playing 'telephone', where they got some details right and others wrong, and mixed up my legend with local mythology."  
  
"That's... wow." Sören laughed. "Wow."  
  
"Yeah." Maglor rolled his eyes. "Very wow."  
  
Sören had a gigglefit, not able to help it. "You're not the messiah... you're a very naughty boy."  
  
Maglor winked at Sören across the table, and began to play footsie with Sören under the table.  
  
When Sören did dishes after the meal, Maglor came over to the sink and loaded the freshly rinsed dishes into the dishwasher, without being asked to help. "You're sweet," Sören said.  
  
Maglor leaned in and gave him a little kiss.  
  
Sören had to. "It's like you answered my prayer."  
  
Maglor facepalmed.  
  
"You're my own..." Sören started to sing. "Personal... Jesus." He put his hand on Maglor's crotch. "Reach out, touch faith."  
  
Maglor leaned on Sören, shaking with laughter. He tousled Sören's curls and kissed the top of his head. "You're a horrible brat."  
  
" _Takk._ "  
  
Maglor took Sören's chin in his hand and gave him a deeper kiss. "Don't ever change."  
  
Sören kissed him back. They lingered, nuzzling, and then Sören wet his hands and splashed Maglor, cackling as Maglor leapt back before Maglor took the dishtowel and swatted Sören's ass with it. Sören gave a playful butt wiggle.  
  
"I still feel like I should apologize for earlier," Sören said, frowning as he resumed rinsing.  
  
"No. No you shouldn't." Maglor shook his head. "You _finally_ fought the way you _need_ to fight when you're up against..." He made a vague hand gesture towards the sliding glass back door, the world beyond. "That."  
  
"Jæja, I just... don't want to hurt you."  
  
"I know." Maglor's arms tightened around him. "But what would hurt me, truly, is losing you again. So I _need you_ to give it your all, even if you think I'm going to be wounded. I need you to be prepared for what we have to do, someday."  
  
"Someday." Sören sighed. "Sooner than someday, it feels like."  
  
Maglor nodded. Sören felt Maglor searching for levity of his own. He leaned in and whispered to Sören, "Besides... you were fucking hot out there."  
  
Sören crinkled his nose and bit his lower lip. "You think so?"  
  
"It was such a turn-on to see you lose control like that. So fierce. Makes me wonder what you'd be like in bed when you're still like that."  
  
Sören kissed him. "If you're trying to bribe me to spar more often by promising me sex after, you're almost succeeding."  
  
Maglor grinned. "Why do you think Nicolae and I like to spar together as often as we do?"  
  
Sören threw his head back and laughed.  
  
Then Sören started crying again, this time thinking about Fingolfin going up against Morgoth in single combat. It had happened after Fëanor had died - indeed, it was because Fëanor had died, Fingolfin went mad in his grief, on a suicide mission - but besides reading it in the _Silmarillion_ , Sören had _seen_ it across his Force bond with Dooku.  
  
And he felt guilty. He had done nothing wrong, with the Silmarils - indeed, he had been wronged - but it was because of his actions that he and most of his family had been sent into mortal incarnations - where they had been abused, or had endured other hardships and pain - and Maglor had wandered the Earth alone. He didn't like thinking about the First Age, a home he could never go back to, and he at times felt like he was so _inadequate_ compared to what he had once been, a poor substitute for the original Fëanor.  
  
Maglor turned off the water and held Sören, kissing the top of his head. "Sören," he husked. He knew what Sören was thinking, across their bond. "I've said it before but I'll say it again." Maglor took Sören's face in his hands and looked into his eyes. "I love you even more now, than I did then. Not simply because you are more precious to me for having been lost, then found again. But because you are still _you_. Everything you have gone through, and you still shine. You made me fall in love with you all over again."  
  
They kissed. When they pulled apart, breathing hard, Maglor said, "I know what will help you get through the evening, past the anxiety and the overwhelming feelings."  
  
He took Sören's hand and led him not to the master bedroom, but to one of the two spare bedrooms, the one that they had converted into a studio, with Maglor's musical equipment and Sören's art supplies.  
  
For awhile Edenel and Dooku watched as Maglor played the harp and Sören painted. Maglor improvised, and Sören continued with the snow and ice that he'd been feeling the strong urge to paint as Edenel approached. Sören began to paint Edenel, and it seemed like Maglor's harp was playing the song of Edenel's soul, star-bright, then descent into darkness, only to find the fire once more... this time a cold fire.  
  
Time seemed to vanish, and then Huan broke the spell, whining. "I'll take the dog for a walk," Dooku said.  
  
"I'll join you." Edenel got up. Sören could see he noticed the way Maglor and Sören were looking at each other, and though another foursome would be pleasant later, Edenel seemed to understand that the Flame and the Song needed some time to themselves.  
  
As soon as Edenel and Dooku left the room, Sören and Maglor fell on each other, making their way to the futon in the corner of the room, still warm from where Edenel and Dooku had been sitting, watching. Maglor pulled Sören's T-shirt over his head, and caressed Sören's chest and arms once exposed, kissing him hungrily. Sören reached for Maglor's jeans and undid them before pulling off his own jeans. When their clothing was in a pile on the floor Maglor pushed Sören onto his back, kissing him hard, eyes intense. Their hard cocks rubbed together, and Sören felt like he could come just like that, even more when Maglor began kissing Sören's neck, down to his pierced nipples.  
  
"You are not inadequate at all," Maglor said, stroking Sören's face, resting his head on Sören's heart. "Not in the slightest."  
  
Sören took Maglor's hand and kissed it. "I love you."  
  
Maglor came up and kissed him. "I know. And I love you, more than words can say." He started kissing the other side of Sören's neck, and worked on the other nipple.  
  
Soon Maglor had Sören's cock in his mouth, sucking greedily, silver eyes blazing. Sören bucked, writhing, thrashing, swearing in Icelandic. As much as he loved watching Maglor suck him, he wanted to love him too, and begged until Maglor relented and they got in the sixty-nine position. Sören wanted to devour him, and he did, sucking hard, licking his cock all over, his tongue slipping into Maglor's opening and licking him there, too, tongue teasing the prostate, moaning into him as Maglor followed suit, also tongue-fucking Sören. There was urgency to come but they also wanted to take their time and enjoy each other, and that was what they did, going back and forth between sucking and rimming, moans and cries louder and louder as they teased their way to that edge.  
  
But they did, finally, get there, neither of them able to hold back. And after they came together, flooding each other's mouths, they kissed with their mouths full of each other's cum, savoring the taste of them together. It was arousing enough that they hardened up again right away, and this time it was Sören who pushed Maglor onto his back, using the Force to bring over the lube they kept in the studio. He poured lube over Maglor's cock, and Maglor groaned, guiding the tip of his cock to Sören's opening. Sören impaled himself with a cry and began to ride, slowly at first, then bouncing on him wildly, crying out so loud he wondered if the neighbors would hear, and didn't care.  
  
Sören struggled with self-doubt, but here and now he couldn't deny how _right_ this felt. They fit together like they were custom-made for each other. They belonged.  
  
And Sören was damned if he was going to let anyone take that away from him, ever again.  
  
  
_  
  
  
It was already pitch-dark outside, since the days were shorter now, and would get shorter still. There was more light pollution here a few streets away from downtown Akureyri than there had been living in Svalbarðseyri, nonetheless there were some visible stars, and certainly a better night sky than London. It was enough that Dooku enjoyed walking at night.  
  
And though he normally felt uncomfortable around people he didn't know well, there was enough of a sense of familiarity with Edenel walking beside him that he felt at ease... or as at ease as he could be knowing Edenel's announcement tomorrow was of a serious nature. Dooku felt a little heat in his cheeks - yes, he was damn well familiar enough with Edenel to do what he'd done last night. He wasn't one for casual sex, but it hadn't been casual. Not really. He didn't know Edenel well and yet it felt like he'd known Edenel for a very long time.  
  
"How is the heat today?" Dooku finally asked, mildly.  
  
"Mostly gone."  
  
"I thought as much. You still smell good but... not as strongly."  
  
"Last night was very satisfying." Edenel gave a small smile.  
  
"That's good." Dooku felt a little shy. "It was for me, too. But... I'm glad you enjoyed yourself with us." He took a deep breath. "Last year, Sören showed us what you'd shown him about your life. How the _Ithiledhil_ came to be. The horror that you experienced in captivity. What you became. I felt awful for you. I am also... well, I don't know if this is appropriate to say or not, but I am very _proud_ of you, that my own uncle became a warrior, a foe to evil abominations, scourging the earth where they arose. I wish very much that you had not had to go through what you did to get there. But you becoming what you were, after what had happened, when you could have gone down the path of darkness, given into what _he_ wanted..." He meant Melkor. The filth whose name he struggled to utter.  
  
Edenel reached for Dooku's hand and squeezed it.  
  
"So... we'd like to offer you some comfort. Not out of pity, but you are our family and that is what family does. I can tell you've been feeling like you've intruded, but..." Dooku squeezed Edenel's hand back. "Please don't. We're glad to have you. We want you to feel at home with us, when you can be. We want you to feel safe with us. Feel welcome, and loved..."  
  
Edenel stopped walking, and for a moment Dooku froze, wondering if he'd said too much, said the wrong thing and offended him somehow - Dooku knew the pride in their bloodline ran strong, stronger where they had been broken - and then Edenel grabbed Dooku and kissed him.  
  
Dooku responded to the kiss, kissing him back. When they pulled apart, breathing hard, Dooku's face was on fire. His cock was waking up, wanting attention. Huan whined and let out a bark, and they resumed the walk.  
  
The dog taking care of business and Dooku scooping it up and disposing of it wasn't exactly the sexiest or most romantic scenario, and Dooku gave a little nervous laugh. The mood changed back to a more sensual one as they paused at a park to let Huan run around and play for a few minutes, sitting together on a bench, and Edenel pulled Dooku to him, letting Dooku rest on his shoulder, gently rubbing his knee. Dooku threw a ball for Huan to fetch, and Huan brought it back, and he tossed it out again, and then Edenel took Dooku's chin in his hand and kissed him again.  
  
Dooku was feeling pretty randy by the time they headed back from the park, but unsure what to do about it. They let Huan inside and could hear the cries of Sören and Maglor making love, their flesh slapping together. Dooku always found that sound arousing, and he thought about leading Edenel to join them.  
  
But Edenel put a hand on Dooku's arm, staying him. "Let's let them be for awhile. They need some time."  
  
Dooku nodded. He could understand that, as he and Sören still had one-on-one time, as did he and Maglor, in addition to the three of them making love together. He'd felt a storm of emotions from Sören, and Maglor had a history of knowing how to take care of him.  
  
"I saw a hot tub in your backyard," Edenel said. "That would be pleasant right about now."  
  
Dooku grabbed what was left in the wine bottle, a couple of wine glasses, and started the jacuzzi. Even though Edenel had seen him naked last night - more than seen - he still felt a little self-conscious about undressing in front of him, or he did until Edenel, completely naked, came over and took off the rest of his clothes. Dooku's hard cock sprang free and Edenel cupped it, stroking it gently, and then took both their cocks together in his hand, stroking them, stealing another kiss.  
  
They climbed into the hot tub together, which indeed was pleasant, warmth in the chilly night air. Dooku sighed as he stretched out in the heat and the bubbles, and for a few minutes he and Edenel just relaxed in the tub, under the stars. It was even more peaceful than the walk. Or it would have been if his cock wasn't aching.  
  
"I know Sören showed you my life," Edenel finally said, "but there's something else you should know."  
  
Dooku turned his head to look at Edenel. As always his breath caught at the sight of him, the flood of white hair to his knees, the silver glow of him in the darkness of night, the beautiful icy eyes, the sculpted body as if he had been carved by a master. The lovely face, that had been a bit hardened by pain and rage and grief. "I was supposed to be Fëanor's father, instead of Finwë. And I was supposed to be _your_ father too, Fingolfin."  
  
Dooku's jaw dropped.  
  
"It is as I said to Sören. I would have loved you. I know that Finwë favored you over your brothers, but you resented him not just because of how he treated Fëanor but because you knew, even when you were young, that what Finwë felt wasn't really love. His children were like toys, to come out and be played with when convenient... and to be seen and not heard. To play his game, not your own. He never really accepted you. You and Fëanor tried very hard to not make the same mistake with your own blood, and you often wondered to yourself _where_ you got that parenting instinct from, something that both your parents had lacked. You got it from me. The fierce, savage love that you both possessed for each other and your families... you learned it from me, even though I had not gotten to raise you or even meet you. Because even across the distance, blood sings. I was not your sire but you still bred true, as if I had been."  
  
Dooku started to choke up. It had been Sören's turn earlier, and now it was his turn.  
  
"I'm glad I found you," Edenel said, taking Dooku's hand. "Both of you. But that includes you." Edenel stroked Dooku's cheek, skritched his beard fondly like he was a cat, making Dooku smile through his tears. "And it has not been easy for me, seeing what you both have endured in these lives, the Doom upon you."  
  
"No." Dooku let out a sigh. "I know you said you've seen me work a couple different professions across worlds, but..." He looked up. "I'm guessing much of my life remains the same."  
  
"You are perhaps the most consistent one of the group, honestly, yes." Edenel stroked Dooku's face some more. "It was bad enough that Finwë treated you as he did. Worse to know you'd been actively mistreated at the hands of your father in this life."  
  
"And my mother." Dooku swallowed hard. "It's the reason I go by my surname here. The real reason, not simply that my given first name, Ion, was shared in common with my Nazi collaborator uncle. But I was only ever 'he' 'or 'it' to my parents unless I was in trouble. So being called by my name..."  
  
"Even where you don't have the Ion and it's just Nicolae or Nicholas, you allow very few people to be on a first-name basis with you, and it's for much the same reason. I know."  
  
"I was taken to the woodshed more times than I can count, for very minor infractions. When he didn't just bend me over my bed and beat me with the belt. My mother backhanded me a lot. It's something Sören and I have in common, we both know what that feels like, though his was his aunt and uncle." Dooku cringed. "But the verbal abuse was even worse than the physical, for me. That wounded me far more deeply."  
  
Edenel held Dooku's hands.  
  
"Growing up hearing, regularly, 'I wish you had never been born'. 'You make my life so goddamn miserable.' 'You're worthless, you'll never amount to anything.' 'We didn't have any more children because we didn't want them to turn out like you.' And I was never a bad child. I was quiet, reserved, bookish. But nothing I did was right. If I made noise, I was in trouble. If I spilled things, I was in trouble. If I got sick, I was in trouble. I pushed myself as hard as I could academically, got into Oxford to try to show them that I could, in fact, amount to something. And even when I passed the bar, it wasn't enough. I had chosen the wrong career. I wasn't 'a real man', sitting behind a desk instead of working with my hands." Dooku closed his eyes, wishing he could forget. "I will have been on this planet seventy-two years in December and time really does not heal all wounds, at all. Things from when I was seven, when I was twelve, I still remember like it was yesterday. It still hurts."  
  
"I know." Edenel's voice was soft. "Things from tens of thousands of years ago still hurt, Fingolfin."  
  
Dooku started to cry. He had told Sören more than enough times it was OK to cry - Sören who himself had been shamed about crying as a lad, hearing "boys don't cry" from his aunt and uncle - and yet, even as Dooku thought that it was OK to cry, he was harder on himself than he was on anyone else. _In this family we do not cry or complain,_ his parents had lectured him. And so it was. He didn't want to cry in front of Edenel. He didn't want _pity_. There were people dying in the world, people who had lived far worse lives than he had. Edenel, himself, had experienced far worse, Dooku felt.  
  
Edenel took Dooku's hands and kissed them. "Let it out." He put his arms around Dooku. "Father's here."  
  
Dooku lost it, breaking down sobbing, and Edenel held him tight. "My son," Edenel soothed as he rocked Dooku, pet him. Not pity, but the compassion for one's blood. "My own. Your father's here now. It is better than it was, and if I have any say in the matter, it will get better still as time goes on."  
  
"The Valar..." Dooku wept. "They have already done so much. We have the Force, and we are immortal now, but we are still..."  
  
"Changed as pressure turns coal into a diamond. And nothing cuts harder." Edenel stroked Dooku's face, looked into his eyes. "I believe in you, and Sören, that you can defeat what stands against you. To do that you must work together this time - but you know that."  
  
"He is the other half of my soul," Dooku said, nodding.  
  
"The Valar have done a great deal to harm both of you, and the rest of your family, and they will pay for that. But they could not keep you apart. Not here, and not in most other worlds. You, Sören, and Maglor are happy together in countless worlds. You fear that will be taken away from you - I can feel that. And you are not wrong to be afraid, you must never underestimate what stands against you. But they underestimate _you_ , being in these human bodies... and that will be to their peril. Because you still are what you are and always have been, underneath." Edenel kissed Dooku's brow. "When I look at you, I see you as you are now - handsome, distinguished, I believe the term for it is 'silver fox' - but I also see you as you once were. The hair to your knees, the silver-blue eyes, the brilliant blue of your aura. It is sort of like layers. But it's not just physical, because what it means is that _you still have power_ , that other people can feel. You have never been like most people, being Force-sensitive... but it goes even beyond that. Because of who and what you are."  
  
Dooku blinked back more tears.  
  
"And who and what you are..." Edenel stroked his hair, his beard. "Is mine. You and Sören... are mine. I have spent months making sure you have a future, because that is what a father does for his sons."  
  
Dooku felt another sob about to break free, and Edenel held him again, rocked him. Then, at last, Edenel's hand reached under the bubbles of the tub and Dooku felt Edenel stroking his cock back to life. "Let's go in," Edenel said softly.  
  
Sören and Maglor were still making love, which was to be expected, and Edenel led them towards the master bedroom instead of the studio. They turned down the covers and then Edenel got in, and when Dooku climbed on Edenel held out his arms. "Let your father take care of you for awhile," Edenel whispered.  
  
Dooku went to him, and they kissed for awhile, hands caressing every inch of flesh they could reach, exploring. Their cocks rubbed together, and then Edenel took them both into his hand, stroking, as Dooku kissed him more earnestly, played with Edenel's hair. Dooku reached for the lube with the Force and Edenel poured lube over Dooku's cock and guided the tip to his opening. "Let your father love you." Edenel looked into his eyes.  
  
Dooku knew, as he slowly pushed in, that Edenel didn't give himself easily, having been raped numerous times in his captivity. That trust was an honor, and feeling Edenel's genuine pleasure as the slight upcurve of Dooku's cock hit the sweet spot inside just right, pleased Dooku as well. He went slowly, carefully... lovingly, sensually. This was as much tenderness for him as it was passion, not just Edenel giving himself in comfort, but Dooku's gratitude for being loved and accepted as he was, and wanting to feel that love even more deeply, fully. Dooku kissed Edenel's neck, his chest, his nipples, wanting to make him feel good, wanting to worship the beauty of this man, wanting to _love_.  
  
Slowly, they made their way to that edge. Their kisses got more urgent, feverish, and then Edenel's hands grabbed his hips. "Don't hold back, Fingolfin. Show me that power in you. The fire in our blood..."  
  
Dooku kissed Edenel hard, and drove into him. Edenel made a guttural sound, shuddering, nails raking Dooku's back. Dooku bit Edenel's neck and Edenel cried out, rocking his hips against him, matching his rhythm. "Yes, my son, yes..." Edenel panted.  
  
That was it. Dooku threw all caution to the wind and fucked as hard as he could, bed rocking against the wall, their flesh slapping together, two deep registers groaning, grunting, then finally crying out as they climaxed together, blinding in its intensity. Dooku felt like he couldn't stop coming as Edenel contracted around him, spilled over his chest and stomach, and his own. They kissed deeply, Edenel's arms around him, and then their foreheads were together, breathing each other's breath. The whole room was glowing, almost hurting Dooku's eyes.  
  
Edenel pushed him onto his back. He gave Dooku some time to recover - though Dooku found he needed less time, since becoming immortal, his body had started to behave like that of a younger man, even as he still looked older. Edenel pet him, gave little kisses over his neck and shoulder that then became more sensual kisses, licking, nibbling, making Dooku groan. Their cocks rubbed together again and Edenel's fingers played through Dooku's chest hair, idly rubbed a nipple, teasing it erect. "What would you like now?" Edenel asked.  
  
Dooku opened himself, feeling shy, but it felt right just the same. "I want to welcome my father home."  
  
Edenel kissed him, and Dooku moaned as the tip of Edenel's cock breached his entrance, then slowly slid in, inch by inch. When Edenel was all the way in they kissed again, and Edenel husked, "I love you, my son."  
  
"I love you, Father."  
  
Edenel kissed him, and started to thrust, going as slowly as Dooku had gone before. "That's a good boy."  
  
It felt strange to be called "boy" at his age, but it still hit something visceral in him and Dooku moaned, slowly rolling his hips back at Edenel. Then he moaned again as Edenel's cock found it. Edenel smiled, kissing his neck. "My good son," Edenel whispered. "I will take care of you. I will not fail you."  
  
Dooku pulled Edenel closer and kissed him hard, feeling Edenel's touch not just in his body but in his soul.


	4. The Beginning of the End

**The Beginning of the End**

  
  
  
Sören waited outside, playing fetch with Huan, and when Huan began to bark, wagging his tail excitedly, Sören knew they were close. Sören watched as the jeep his sister was renting came down the street, blaring Sex Pistols out the window.  
  
Kol was the first to get out, then Frankie, then at last Margrét. They each had a duffel bag with clothes and items to get them through the next three days.  
  
The triad was interesting-looking, three people who normally wouldn't look like they belonged together but they did: Kol who was close to seven feet tall, long dark red hair to his waist, bronze eyes, wearing a T-shirt and jeans and light jacket yet somehow managing to look flawlessly elegant in his casual attire; Mary Frances "Frankie" O'Riordan, all of five feet tall, chubby and curvy, with flame-red hair in a short pixie cut, grey-blue eyes behind glasses, a nose ring and eyebrow ring, multiple earrings in each ear, wearing red plaid pants and a Clash T-shirt with a purple hooded sweatshirt; and Margrét Sigurdsdóttir, six feet tall, loose ebony waves to the middle of her back, long-lashed grey eyes, pale, slim and small-breasted, wearing heavy eye makeup, a glittery black turtleneck sweater with a long black lace skirt and combat boots. Margrét's nails were French manicured, and she wore an assortment of interesting-looking rings, with a plain wedding band. She, like Frankie, also had a nose ring, an eyebrow piercing, and several pairs of earrings in her ears, including a triple helix piercing. But Frankie was cute - pixie face to go with the pixie cut - and Margrét could have been a supermodel. The Elven ancestry via Maglor and Tindómion was definitely obvious in Margrét's features.  
  
The turtleneck wasn't just because it was a chilly day, but Margrét had an Adam's apple. Her voice, though modified by years of estrogen and practice, was deep for a woman's. Born Magnús Sigurdsson, she'd started transitioning in 2007. Her brothers and cousin were supportive of her - Sören always felt a lump in his throat when he saw her after not seeing for awhile, knowing how close she'd come to taking her own life; he'd saved her life once, giving CPR - accidentally breaking her sternum and ribs - while waiting for the paramedics. And he was glad that she'd finally found happiness in her life and was no longer angry with him for saving hers.  
  
Now she was just annoyed for being called up here on such short notice, but nonetheless it was an excuse to see her brother after a few weeks apart, and after giving him a stern look Margrét smiled and held her arms out. Sören gave her a tight squeeze.  
  
Then Frankie pulled the hem of his shirt. "Come here, you," she said, and snogged him hard.  
  
It was still weird, his girlfriend being his sister's wife, but he and Margrét had discussed the subject many times over and Margrét found it more amusing than anything else. "I just want you both to be happy," she had said in that initial conversation about the attraction, "and I'd rather share her with family than a stranger. At least I know where you live, so I can kick your arse if I have to."  
  
Margrét watched with a little smirk, and then grinned when Kol planted a kiss on Sören's cheek, making him blush. Back when Sören had been temporarily staying with his sister in Reykjavik a couple years ago Kol had expressed interest and though Sören was very attracted to him it hadn't really gone anywhere at the time, since Sören was still reeling from a broken heart, but Margrét had encouraged them dating, and the issue had never completely gone away, just sat on the shelf as they settled into their respective poly relationships. His eyes meeting Kol's, feeling a little flutter in his stomach at how beautiful Kol was, he wondered about it now, if it was the right time to explore possibilities.  
  
He couldn't wonder long, as Margrét was marching them into the house. "Right," Margrét said as they got in. "I know you said we'd be here a few days but whatever this emergency is I'd like to know about it now."  
  
"Good afternoon to you too, Margrét," Dooku said.  
  
Margrét put him in a headlock and gave him a noogie in response, then affectionately tweaked her brother-in-law's nose.  
  
Edenel and Maglor came out from the kitchen. There was tea and pastries for everyone. Margrét didn't touch anything, just stared intently at Edenel as if to say _I'm waiting_.  
  
Edenel and Kol looked at each other for a long moment, as if communicating something privately between them, which made Margrét and Frankie both give Kol a suspicious look. Kol responded by pushing a bite of scone into Frankie's mouth. She still scowled at him as she chewed. It would have been funny to Sören if he didn't feel like his own nerves were screaming, also wanting to know what the bloody hell was going on.  
  
Edenel took a deep breath. "It's the Dagor Dagorath."  
  
Sören gasped. He thought of how Vanimórë had left to prepare for the Dagorath, and how Vanimórë had said they were not likely to see each other again. His mind immediately began playing worst case scenarios. Vanimórë dead. Vanimórë imprisoned, a fate worse than dead, being tortured, raped. He wanted to scream. _No, Van... please be OK..._  
  
"Is Van all right?" Sören blurted out, tears in his eyes. Vanimórë who had come to comfort him when he was in such a dark place. Had helped him find his way to Dooku and back to Maglor. Had given them the gift of immortality, so he, Dooku and Maglor would have a future together. Had set up a fund to take care of them as they necessarily had to relocate to protect themselves as the years wore on and they didn't age. Above and beyond everything, had shown him kindness, tenderness... and passion. Sören's fists clenched, still missing him. Aching for him. He'd fallen in love with the man, and that hadn't gone away with time. The thought of something happening to Vanimórë tore at him. _He's already been through too much._  
  
"For now, and for some measure of all right," Edenel said, nodding.  
  
"So... so he survived?" Sören wasn't religious at all - he'd become something of an anti-religionist since finding out he was on the shit list of at least two pantheons, seeing the gods as bullies - but now his hands made a praying gesture.  
  
"The Dagorath hasn't happened yet, Sören. You would have felt it. Which is what I called the meeting about." Edenel sat back in his chair.  
  
"Van told me when he was leaving over a year ago that time flows differently where he's going and it would be awhile here but not very long for him," Sören said.  
  
"Well... awhile is here, Sören," Edenel said. "We don't know the exact date but it is imminent. We're expecting it within a few weeks, your time. And the reason why I wanted the three of you to be here for the announcement..." Edenel glanced over at Margrét, Frankie, and Kol.  
  
"I will be leaving to fight in the Dagorath," Kol said. "In a matter of days."  
  
"You... you what." Margrét's eyebrows raised.  
  
Kol nodded. "I swore an oath. To Fëanor, the ascended one. An oath of fealty, I am in his service. I cannot break my oath, much as it pains me to leave you."  
  
"I will be leaving when he leaves," Edenel said. "This is my family, and we are facing the greatest evil ever known. It is not a matter of wanting to or not wanting to. It is a matter of having to."  
  
"So... wait, you mentioned the ascended Fëanor," Sören said. "Van had mentioned something about the Dagorath, at the wedding, said it was happening in his universe, but..."  
  
"Correct. One universe, but it will nonetheless impact the others," Edenel said. "It may not necessarily destroy other universes, but it will be felt, they will be changed."  
  
"And that includes here," Sören said.  
  
"That especially includes here. This is one of the few universes we've visited where you can do..." Edenel gestured to Sören moving the teacup with just his mind. "That. Things are very different with that in place. There is a lot more that can go awry with those kinds of gifts in a percentage of the population when the energetic discharge of the Dagorath - however the outcome - bleeds into this world. Just those of you who have these gifts _feeling_ that cataclysm, is going to have some kind of effect."  
  
Sören leaned back in his chair. However much of a mutant he was here for being able to move things without touching them, sometimes read the thoughts of others, almost always feel the emotions of others, like constant noise all the time... he couldn't imagine a world where he _wasn't_ like this. That seemed very strange to him.  
  
And then all of that was snapped out of his head as he realized _Kol and Edenel were leaving_. Like Vanimórë had left, and Vanimórë had said they would probably never see each other again. There was a knot in the pit of Sören's stomach and his voice broke as he choked out, "So... you're leaving?"  
  
Edenel and Kol looked at each other again. "Sunday," Edenel said.  
  
"And then... then what." Sören's hands shook. Tears burned his eyes. "Are you coming back...?"  
  
"We will come back if we survive," Edenel said, and Kol nodded.  
  
" _If we survive?_ " Frankie was also close to hysterics. She grabbed Kol. "You can't bloody fucking leave -"  
  
"I swore an oath, Frankie." Kol held her tight. He looked close to tears himself.  
  
"He can't break his oath," Maglor said, his own voice raspy with emotion. Sören ached for him then, knowing what Maglor's oath had cost him.  
  
"God _dammit_ , Kol," Frankie yelled, pulling on his shirt.  
  
"I swore the oath long before I met you," Kol said. "A very long time ago."  
  
"So you're not human," Sören said, confirming what he'd already suspected, since Vanimórë had trusted him with some of the vials of his immortality-granting blood, suggesting a prior connection, and there was the fact that he was unearthly beautiful and Sören sensed a _power_ thrumming around him, perhaps even stronger than Maglor or Edenel. "You're not actually Kolgrímur Sólmundursson from the Faroe Islands."  
  
There was a long, awkward silence. Then Kol nodded, and Frankie also nodded. "We've known that for awhile," she said.  
  
"Yeah." Margrét's neutral, composed facial expression finally gave way to clear upset as she turned to look at Kol with tears in her eyes.  
  
"Even if it had been more recent..." Kol stroked Margrét's face, giving her a sorrowful look. "I have a debt to pay to Fëanor, personally."  
  
"I understand." Margrét took Kol's hand and kissed it, tears flowing quietly down her cheeks. "You have honor."  
  
"I don't know about honor," Kol said softly, his voice filled with regret. "But I have loyalty, and a sense of justice. They need me there."  
  
"We need you here, too," Frankie said, sounding stung.  
  
Kol pulled her to him again and kissed her forehead. Frankie began sobbing and Kol kissed her tears. "I will come back," Kol said. "I promise you. If I survive - and I have every intention to survive, it is my _will_... I will return. It will only be for a few weeks, that I'm gone."  
  
"And then what? When we feel whatever we're going to feel, when whatever happens, happens..." Frankie's chin trembled. "We have to feel all of that alone?"  
  
"It will be necessary more than it was before to stay close together," Edenel said. "To look out for each other. Both when you feel the impact, and in the days, weeks, even months thereafter. There will be aftershocks, following the cataclysm. Those, too, are difficult to predict with how they will change things here."  
  
"We need to look out for you, too," Sören said, his eyes meeting Edenel's.  
  
Edenel gave him a sad smile.  
  
Though it wasn't quite the end of the world, Sören felt like his world was in fact ending, in a way. He cared about Kol, and Edenel. He missed Vanimórë terribly, and knowing that the Dagorath was at hand and Vanimórë would be fighting there... he hoped Vanimórë would be OK. Losing Vanimórë was bad enough. Losing Kol and Edenel too...  
  
"Excuse me," Sören said, and got up with a sob.  
  
  
_  
  
  
Sören sat for awhile outside, crying. Thinking about when Vanimórë left. The times they'd shared - a brief summer fling that, at least to Sören, was so much more. There had been a connection. One that even over a year later, Sören still mourned, missing him, wishing with all his heart he could see Vanimórë again.  
  
Kol had been a regular fixture in his life for almost two years, seeing him when he visited his sister. Kol was like a brother to him - albeit one he was sexually attracted to. He would miss Kol's beauty, his quiet strength, the occasional wisecrack, and always, the support. The way Kol was there for Frankie and Margrét, and had sometimes been a shoulder or a warm embrace for him as well. He understood the severity of Kol's oath to the ascended Fëanor. Whatever debt Kol had, he knew it needed to be paid. And yet, Sören didn't want him to leave, not just because he'd be missed for those few weeks, when their own world would feel the impact of what was happening elsewhere, but he feared that Kol wouldn't return, and the thought of never seeing him again didn't feel right at all.  
  
And then there was Edenel. _Father._ Edenel, who had taken care of Dooku last night, which made Sören love him even more. He had already lost Sigurd to the machinations of evil gods. He knew, from what he'd seen and felt of Edenel's time in captivity, that for Edenel, fighting Morgoth was personal. And not just Edenel's own horror, but now that Sören knew Edenel was supposed to be the father of Fëanor and Fingolfin, it was for what had been done to his sons, as well.  
  
Sören understood the need for reckoning, for retribution, on a gut level - it was why he had been training to someday go after Odin, fulfill the prophecy of the Fenris-wolf that, once unbound, would kill him. Sören's mother had only been a part of his life than less than six years, but he had _loved_ her, and finding her dead was one of the defining traumas of his life. A sweet, kind woman had been taken from the world trying to _protect her own children_ , and Odin would pay for that. And as Wodanaz had become so powerful over the ages by fighting gods and taking their powers, it was with the fall of Odin that Sören planned to take down the Valar, for the Doom. Both the past of the Doom but also the weight of it hanging over their heads. Sören had found his way back to his loves - Fingolfin and Maglor most especially - in this world, and most other worlds. He even had immortality now, so Maglor would not be robbed again of his father and uncle. But what good was immortality on a dying world, where people seemed to hasten its destruction through religious ideologies? Ideologies that all seemed to be aligned with that of Manwë, no less - Sören had very little doubt that it was Manwë. If Manwë could be defeated, made to stop poisoning the well, maybe there would be hope. But until then...  
  
Yes, vengeance was something Sören understood intimately. And yet, Sören did not want Edenel to go. He understood that Edenel _had to_ , just as someday he would have to take the risk of going up against Odin, then against the Valar. Morgoth needed to pay for his crimes. A good old-fashioned family beatdown appealed to Sören's sense of justice.  
  
But he would miss Edenel. His father being taken from him all over again.  
  
He was losing his family. His brother-in-law, his father. After all he'd been through, his family was precious to him. He would do just about anything for the people he loved. _His_ people. And two of _his_ people were leaving him, for a war to end all wars, a war from which they might never return.  
  
It was too much. Sören didn't feel like his heart was breaking, he felt like his very soul was breaking.  
  
Sören tried to calm down, but he just ended up crying again, sobbing. At last the sliding glass door opened. Sören thought it would be Dooku or Maglor come out to comfort him, but the touch in the Force felt different. One was like sunlight and the other like a winter breeze.  
  
Kol and Edenel came to sit on either side of him, and they each put an arm around him. Sören cried harder, and Edenel finally pulled him close, rocking him, and Kol pet him, making soothing noises.  
  
"I don't want you to go," Sören cried.  
  
Edenel kissed Sören's brow.  
  
"We are coming back," Kol assured him.  
  
Edenel nodded. "I will have to keep traveling for a time - to make sure you all are OK across the multiverse, and if not, do what I can to make things OK - but I will visit you." Edenel stroked Sören's face and kissed his brow again. "I will be more regular in my visits this time. I know I was too long away."  
  
"I need my father," Sören croaked.  
  
Edenel's eyes misted. Sören knew he did not cry, but that had touched him on the raw. Sören felt it. Edenel kissed his lips this time, a soft, lingering kiss. "You will not lose me, dear one. This I promise you." Edenel took Sören's hand then, and though his touch in the Force had been cool and wintry, his physical touch was warm and inviting. He kissed Sören's hand, looking into his eyes.  
  
Then Edenel smoothed a lock of Sören's curls and said, "And now there is something you must promise me."  
  
Sören cocked his head to one side, listening.  
  
"You need to find the Silmarils," Edenel said.  
  
"Jæja, I found one. On my thirty-fifth birthday, last November." Sören closed his eyes, remembering the trip to the black sand beach of Reynisfjara. How the Silmaril came forth from the ocean. The Northern Lights shimmering in the sky, Maglor's scarred hand healed. The way they made love in the sand...  
  
"You need to find the two others. And soon." Edenel took a deep breath. "They may be harder to find after the Dagorath, and you _need_ them when it is time for you to do what must be done, your own time of fighting."  
  
"I wasn't even looking for the Silmaril when I found it," Sören said. He frowned. "Well, not actively. It just happened."  
  
"If you have your intent on your mind, a sort of declaration to the universe... you'll find the other two Silmarils."  
  
"Where would they even be? I read the _Silmarillion_ , but..."  
  
"Where was the first one you found?"  
  
"The sea."  
  
"One will be in a mist or fog, and the other will be in fire... so a volcano. That should be easy enough, you're in the best place for it."  
  
Kol spoke up then. "Very interesting that you ended up incarnating here in Iceland. It seems like in trying to keep you from reawakening who and what you are, it's backfiring on them... or your spirit was just too strong. Or both."  
  
"Jæja, they incarnated Nico as being much older thinking that would keep us apart... and it happens that I prefer older men." Sören managed to laugh at that. "Much older, I guess." He caressed Edenel's face, who smiled at him.  
  
"So, yes." Edenel kissed Sören again. "Find the Silmarils. Soon."  
  
"And Sören..." Kol turned Sören's face to his. Now it was Kol's turn to stroke Sören's face, look at him with tenderness in his eyes. "My promise to come back wasn't just for Frankie and Margrét." He leaned in and gave Sören a kiss - not the chaste, peck-on-the-lips or peck-on-the-cheek kisses that he'd given Sören for the last almost-two-years, but a real kiss, mouths parting, tongues swirling together, dancing, rubbing. Sören moaned at the taste of him, like akvavit, a pleasant burn. When they pulled apart, breathing harder, Sören's face was warm, his entire body warm, like he'd just kissed fire, and he liked it. Kol's bronze eyes had a golden sheen to them now. Kol pet Sören's curls, and husked, "My promise to come back was for you, too."


	5. Too Hot

**Too Hot**

  
  
  
"I can't believe I let you kids talk me into this."  
  
Sören tweaked Dooku's nose as Maglor dragged him into the club. Edenel was walking at their side, and Frankie, Margrét and Kol were up ahead. Frankie took Sören's hands and began skipping into the club, and Sören skipped with her.  
  
"Some of us aren't kids," Edenel said, amusement in his voice.  
  
"My point still stands." Dooku rolled his eyes.  
  
"Ohhhhh, Nico." Sören grabbed the hem of Dooku's black blazer, pulling him along. "Are you really surprised by anything this family does anymore?"  
  
"I suppose not."  
  
It had been Margrét's idea for them all to go clubbing together, a sort of last hurrah before whatever happened, happened. There was a more limited selection of nightclubs in Akureyri compared to Reykjavik, but they still found a bar that had a dancing room and tonight the DJ was spinning throwback tunes from the 80s, 90s, and 00s. It was perfect.  
  
It was also bittersweet - it reminded Sören of Frankie and Margrét's wedding in August 2019, where the reception had a 1980s theme. That was the weekend where Gandalf had attended under the alias "Brian Proust" and had brought a _palantir_ and it was revealed that most of the House of Finwë had been reincarnated as mortal humans - the reveal that he had been Fëanor was particularly unsettling to Sören, even as it made sense of dreams and visions he'd had and certain personality traits and recurring themes in his life, right down to the fire inked on his skin. What was most unsettling of all was the knowledge that the Doom of the Valar hung upon the House of Finwë much more severely than anyone had thought. That weekend had been like a bomb going off, and nothing was the same after that.  
  
This weekend felt like an even more intense version of that, but instead of revelations, it was going forth into the unknown. And that was worse, in a way.  
  
But for here and now, the little family could have one last fun night together, trying to be as lighthearted as they could be in the face of terror.  
  
And one of the most appropriate songs that could be played in the midst of this was playing now, as the group strolled into the dancehall.  
  
 _I was dreamin' when I wrote this  
Forgive me if it goes astray  
But when I woke up this mornin'  
Coulda sworn it was judgment day  
The sky was all purple,  
There were people runnin' everywhere_  
  
Sören thought of the violet of Vanimórë's eyes.  
  
 _Tryin' to run from the destruction,  
You know I didn't even care  
  
'Cuz they say two thousand zero zero party over,  
Oops out of time  
So tonight I'm gonna party like it's 1999_  
  
Sören and Maglor were grinding up on each other, holding Dooku against them, with Edenel on the other side, as Frankie, Margrét and Kol made another chain, shimmying and flailing about and looking like idiots.  
  
 _I was dreamin' when I wrote this  
So sue me if I go too fast  
But life is just a party, and parties weren't meant to last  
War is all around us, my mind says prepare to fight  
So if I gotta die I'm gonna listen to my body tonight_  
  
Maglor and Sören kissed.  
  
 _Yeah, they say two thousand zero zero party over,  
Oops out of time  
So tonight I'm gonna party like it's 1999  
Yeah  
  
Lemme tell ya somethin'  
If you didn't come to party,  
Don't bother knockin' on my door  
I got a lion in my pocket,  
And baby he's ready to roar_  
  
A mental image flashed across Sören's head: himself as Fëanor, purring _my golden lion_ as he played with a mane of wavy silver-gold hair. A frisson went down Sören's spine and for a few seconds he stopped dancing, his breath caught, gooseflesh creeping over him.  
  
 _Yeah, everybody's got a bomb,  
We could all die any day  
But before I'll let that happen,  
I'll dance my life away_  
  
After "1999" was over, "Safety Dance" came on by Men Without Hats. Sören danced with each of the group in turn - Dooku, albeit reluctantly, Maglor, Edenel, Kol, Frankie, and Margrét. By the end of the song they made a circle, doing something like a can-can, leaning on each other in hysterics.  
  
They went to the bar for a little break. Kol was the designated driver for one jeep and Dooku the other; some quirk of Kol's non-human biology made it difficult if not impossible for him to get drunk so he tippled _akvavit_ and Brennivín with the rest of them while Dooku abstained.  
  
They got back on the floor for "Every Little Step" by Bobby Brown, Dooku looking on with irritation and affection as Sören indulged in dorky white boy dancing. Margrét took a video with her cell phone and sent the video off to Ari and Dag at the same time - they had been cautioned by their MI6 handler about photo and video of themselves online, but within trusted people in the family was fine.  
  
Sören got back a text from Dag five minutes later. _wow that's bad even for you_  
  
 _takk_ Sören texted back.  
  
Sören and Frankie dirty danced to "Naughty Girls Need Love Too" by Samantha Fox, with Kol dancing with Margrét. Margrét eventually shoved Kol over towards Sören and Frankie, laughing as she grabbed Edenel and spun him around. With Kol grinding him from behind as he thrust against Frankie, Kol and Frankie's hands running over him, Sören's hands on Frankie's hips, sliding up to her waist and over the soft curve of her belly back down, Sören wondered if they were going to end up having a threesome finally while Kol and Frankie were in town.  
  
"Ice Ice Baby" came on, making the group laugh and groan, and more video footage was taken, as well as some pictures of Sören and Frankie attempting "tough rapper guy" stances throwing fake gang signs, looking utterly ridiculous.  
  
Sören sent a particularly ridiculous selfie back to Dag with _word to ya mutha_.  
  
Dag replied with _all right stop_  
  
then a few seconds later _collaborate and listen_  
  
Sören snickered. _I wish you could be here for this. It doesn't feel right to indulge in 80s and 90s cheese without you._  
  
Then, wanting to make it clear to his twin brother that he was loved, Sören quickly added, _Or in general. The gang's all here, except Ari and Harrison, and it feels wrong without you._  
  
A minute passed, and Sören knew Dag was letting that sink in, probably getting emotional. Dag sent back a heart emoji, and then the next message surprised him. _Well, not all here._  
  
Sören raised an eyebrow and waited for it.  
  
Dag fired off another message. _I wonder where. you know._  
  
A few seconds later another text from Dag: _Where Dad is._  
  
He didn't mean their father, Sigurd, who had died when they were too young to remember. Sören knew exactly who Dag was referring to - Dagnýr Sigurdsson was the reincarnation of Finrod Felagund. For whatever reason, the fates had decreed for Finrod to incarnate as Fëanor's fraternal twin brother, rather than his nephew, and their relationship was far less fractious and more supportive this time around.  
  
Noticeably absent from the revelation weekend of Margrét and Frankie's wedding over a year ago had been any sign of a reincarnated Finarfin. Sören had been seeing bits and pieces since that time of what Fëanor and Finarfin's relationship had been like - he had mostly tried to shove it away as soon as it came to him, not wanting to try to poke at it, because it hurt too much knowing what they had shared, and not knowing where Finarfin was or if he had even been reincarnated at all. Sören imagined that he probably _had_ been punished with being reborn as a mortal, because Finarfin and Fëanor had been intimate once upon a time, and sometimes, even Finarfin, Fëanor and Fingolfin together. Sören had the memory that he as Fëanor had commanded Finarfin to stay behind in Valinor and renounce him, for the sake of Finarfin's children who had been threatened.  
  
 _Finarfin's eyes flash like wild gems. "Thou hast spoken of justice and standing up for what is right... I will NOT forsake thee! I will NOT renounce thee. Let me come with thee, fight for thee, stand with thee. I must."  
  
"It is not justice if our entire bloodline dies off, brother, and that is what will happen if thou dost not do as I say." A kiss upon Finarfin's brow, holding him, wanting to scream as Finarfin falls apart, weeping. "Do not let what happened to my family happen to thine own, brother."  
  
Fëanor takes Finarfin's face in his hands and kisses him deeply, the urge to fall upon each other and rut in the grass coming on, but they do not, this time. Fëanor walks away, heart sinking with every step._  
  
Sören wondered how long Finarfin was able to keep up the pretense. Something told him that Finarfin had, eventually, been damned like the rest of them.  
  
Fëanor and Finarfin had a very different relationship than Fëanor and Fingolfin did - there was sex, there was romance, but their personalities and energies played together in a different way, and what Fëanor and Fingolfin had together, he could not live without. Fingolfin's presence cut into Fëanor's soul like a blade, and vice versa. Nobody drove Fëanor crazy the way Fingolfin did, in the best and worst of ways. Nonetheless the three Finwion brothers were parts of a greater whole - if Fëanor and Fingolfin were like twin souls, fire fueling fire, fire consuming fire to become one glorious fire, Finarfin was like the hearth-forge Fëanor's fire burned in, and there was an ever-present ache without Finarfin. It was an ache that Sören mostly tried to forget, and now, with the Dagor Dagorath imminent, here it was again, wondering too where Finarfin was.  
  
"Arafinwë," Sören heard himself say aloud.  
  
His eyes met Dooku's, and he knew then that Dooku had heard that, or at least felt it.  
  
 _Yes, I miss him too,_ Dooku spoke into Sören's mind.  
  
Sören sighed. He closed his eyes and he once again saw Fëanor playing with Finarfin's beautiful waves of silver-gold hair as Finarfin slid down the length of him kissing lower, lower... _ahhhh lower, yes_ , so hungry, devouring. _My golden lion. My little lion, how fierce thou art._ The shining of Finarfin's hair, the light in Fingolfin's eyes as he was taken into ecstasy...  
  
The three Silmarils had been Fëanor's tribute to his brother-lovers - one for Fëanor and each of his brothers - inspired by Fingolfin's eyes and Finarfin's hair, using a lock of Galadriel's to avoid being caught in such flagrant defiance of the Laws. That the Valar wanted jewels that were inspired by passion between brothers was delicious irony to Fëanor, and to Sören as well.  
  
He thought of the Silmarils, and being urged by Kol and Edenel to find them. It seemed like an impossible task still, but also hurt _so much_ that Finarfin would not be present to see him claim all three, if he could.  
  
Sören realized he had to text back Dag, and not leave him waiting. _I miss him,_ Sören typed. Followed by: _And I wonder where he is too._  
  
Then an uptempo song by Jamiroquai came on, with a piano intro.  
  
 _That's the way love goes  
Will it change you inside out  
And then it flows  
To the places unfamiliar yeah  
  
Let me tell, I'm hot for you  
You're so hot for me  
So get on girl_  
  
Sören felt a frisson down his spine. Before he could poke at the feeling, Frankie was dragging him onto the dance floor.  
  
Sören still kept thinking of Finarfin as Jamiroquai played, and by the end of the song he went back to the bar. He informed Dooku, "I am about to get very, very, very, very, very shit-faced. Please do not stop me."  
  
Then he had a shot of Brennivín. And another. And another. More _akvavit_ , more Brennivín. Since becoming immortal it took more alcohol for him to get drunk - it wasn't impossible, the way it seemed to be with Kol, which made Sören wonder how old Kol was, if he was the oldest of the group, and that was _old_ \- but Sören could get drunk, and the more he had, the more it started to hit him. If he couldn't quite forget, he could at least numb the pain for awhile. Maglor came over, looking concerned, and just before Maglor could ask what was going on, Lou Bega's voice announced, " _Ladies and gentlemen - This is Mambo No. 5_!"  
  
"OH SHIIIIIIIIIIIT," Margrét yelled. "I haven't heard this song in _ages_."  
  
Maglor wheezed. "Oh my _god_... it's a song about Ada. And your harem." He gave Sören a pointed look.  
  
And that was how Sören found himself getting pulled onto the dance floor by Maglor and Frankie, doing some kind of ridiculous swing dance. Sören heard himself belting out the song as he danced, changing the names of the girls to the names of his partners... past and present.  
  
 _One, two, three, four, five  
Everybody in the car, so come on let's ride  
To the liquor store around the corner  
The boys say they want some gin and juice  
But I really don't wanna  
Beer bust, like I had last week  
I must stay deep, 'cause talk is cheap  
I like Fingolfin, Finarfin, Maglor and Eden  
And as I continue you know they're getting sweeter  
So what can I do? I really beg you, my Lord  
To me flirting is just like a sport  
Anything fly, it's all good let me dump it  
Please set in the trumpet  
  
A little bit Fingolfin in my life  
A little bit Finarfin by my side  
A little bit Edenel is all I need  
A little bit of Frankie is what I see  
A little bit of Ko-ol in the sun  
A little bit of Maglor all night long  
A little Vanimórë here I am  
A little bit of you makes me your man_  
  
Normally Sören would be a lot more reserved about using these names in public, but none of the outsiders dancing seemed to be paying attention, and most were at least as drunk as he was or well on their way.  
  
As Sören continued to swing dance with Maglor and Frankie, twirling around and hopping, Sören had a visionary flash where he was dancing just like this but he was in a soldier's uniform, with the Norwegian flag above the name FALKENSKJOLD on his uniform, and he was also wearing a gold pin made from a coin that bore a crown and H7. Frankie was wearing a blue zoot suit, her short red hair in pin-curls instead of a pixie cut... and instead of Maglor dancing with them there was Claire James, her rose gold hair in a pompadour, wearing a vintage-looking green dress, laughing and lovely. The Union Jack was flying proudly and they were surrounded by British soldiers dancing with pretty girls and in the corner was Maglor with _short hair and human ears_ , looking profoundly uncomfortable - if Sören blinked he could see through the glamour, could feel how hard Maglor was working to keep it up, and Maglor was playing the piano, accompanied by a big band.  
  
The vision went away as quickly as it had come on, and Sören took that not only as his cue that he'd had enough to drink for the night, but he'd had enough everything for the night, period. Maglor seemed to share that opinion, without Sören having to say anything about the vision. Sören wondered if Maglor had seen it too. Or Frankie.  
  
 _What in the_ fuck _did I just see._  
  
The group piled into two jeeps to head back to Sören, Dooku, and Maglor's house. Dooku drove Frankie and Edenel in one jeep and Kol drove Sören, Maglor and Margrét in the other. The jeep felt way, way too warm, like Sören had stepped into an oven, so even though it was late September and chilly at night here in Iceland, Sören still insisted on having the windows rolled down and he ended up taking off his shirt as well.  
  
Margrét was still in a jovial mood, or at least trying to be, and continued the festivities by putting on an 80s and 90s playlist for the ride back home. A few minutes after they got on the road, now it was Sören's turn to whoop and scream "Oh my GOD it's been a hot minute since I heard this," with familiar synths blaring.  
  
Since Maglor had taken the opportunity to troll Sören about "Mambo No. 5" being about his "harem", Sören trolled Maglor right back.  
  
 _When I dance they call me Macalaurë  
And the boys they say que soy buena  
They all want me  
They can't have me  
So they all come and dance beside me  
Move with me  
Chant with me  
And if you're good, I'll take you home with me_  
  
Maglor gave Sören a filthy look. " _Hells_ , Sören..."  
  
Sören was doing the Macarena dance in his seat now, as he continued singing  
  
 _Dale a tu cuerpo alegría Macalaurë  
Que tu cuerpo es pa' darle alegría why cosa buena  
Dale a tu cuerpo alegría, Macalaurë  
Hey Macalaurë_  
  
Maglor looked murderous. "HELLS."  
  
Sören felt even more perverse at the next verse.  
  
 _But don't you worry about my boyfriend  
He's a boy who's name is Vanimórë_  
  
"HE IS NOT MY BOYFRIEND," Maglor roared.  
  
 _I don't want him  
Couldn't stand him  
He was no good so I_  
  
"HELLS," Maglor bellowed.  
  
 _Now come on, what was I supposed to do?  
He was out of town and his two friends were so fine_  
  
"Which two friends is that?" Margrét teased. "Sören and Dooku? Eden and Kol?"  
  
Maglor was livid. "VANIMÓRË IS. NOT. MY. **BOYFRIEND**."  
  
Sören patted Maglor's head. "Sure, Maglor." Sören smirked. "I seem to recall Ñolofinwë and Arafinwë saying the same thing about me and you see how that worked out."  
  
"THAT'S DIFFERENT."  
  
"Is it?"  
  
" _ **HELLS.**_ "  
  
But bringing up Vanimórë made Sören sad all over again, and when "Macarena" was followed by "Mr. Vain" by Culture Beat on random shuffle, Sören's laughter at Maglor's expense - he did so love to tease his son-lover - became gross, ugly sobbing, missing Vanimórë, the magic in the brief time they had together, hoping desperately that wherever Vanimórë was, he would be all right and survive the Dagor Dagorath.  
  
He hoped desperately he would see Vanimórë again, as unlikely as that was.  
  
He remembered that first night in the Reykjavik nightclub years ago as the song wore on.  
  
 _Call him Mr. Raider call him Mr. Wrong  
Call him Mr. Vain...  
Call him Mr. Raider call him Mr. Wrong  
Call him insane...  
  
He'd say: I know what I want  
And I want it now  
I want you 'cause I'm Mr. Vain  
I know what I want and I want it now  
I want you 'cause I'm Mr. Vain_  
  
Sören heard himself blubbering, falling apart. "I miss Van."  
  
" _Oh no,_ " Margrét muttered. She looked over her shoulder at Sören in the back seat. "Sören..."  
  
" _I miss Van._ " Sören was ugly crying again. "I miss Vanimórë. _I miss Vanimórë._ I MISS VANIMÓRË." Sobs wracking him, nose running. "I miss Arafinwë. I MISS ARA, I MISS VAN, I MISS ARA, I MISS VAN..." And then Sören couldn't make words anymore, only double over crying.  
  
When they got to the house Maglor ended up carrying Sören out of the van, in his arms, making soothing noises. "Shhhh, Ada."  
  
"I miss Van," Sören sobbed. "I miss Ara..."  
  
"We know," Maglor husked, and his own eyes were sad. And Sören saw it then - as much as Maglor protested the idea that there was anything between he and Vanimórë, and could still be provoked to wrath at the mere mention of his name, there was nonetheless _something_ there.  
  
Once they were inside, Maglor began stripping Sören down, but it became clear that it wasn't for sex - Sören was too drunk for that. Maglor picked up Sören again once he was undressed and put him on the bed against the pillows, tenderly tucked him in, and Sören watched Maglor strip, wishing vaguely he hadn't gotten so drunk so he could enjoy Maglor's gorgeous body. Maglor got in beside him and pulled Sören against him, holding him close, petting his curls, rocking him, making more soothing noises. "Shhhhhh, Ada. It's OK, Ada."  
  
" _It will never be OK._ " It felt like one thing after another in his life, that any happiness he had was not destined to last long, the weight of the Doom crushing them.  
  
"Shhhhhhh. Ada. My Ada." Maglor kissed Sören's brow. "Shhhhh, Ada." He stroked Sören's face, his beard, his curls, began to rub his back. "Go to sleep, Ada," he husked, his voice like starlight, his Force energy wrapping around Sören like a blanket, taking Sören into the Song, into lullabies and stardust and softness. "Sleep, my Ada. Rest now, little Fëanáro."  
  
Sören relaxed, melted, and within minutes, Maglor's magic put him out like a light, going deep into the land of dreams.  
  
  
_  
  
  
"Oh god, _fuck._ Me."  
  
Sören felt like an anvil had been dropped on his head. As badly as he'd needed to blot out the pain to get through last night, it almost wasn't worth it with the way his head felt or not. He might not get sick anymore as an immortal, and might be harder to injure, but he sure as _hell_ wasn't immune from the consequences of a night of hard drinking. Sören made a noise of agony, the room too bright even with the lights off and curtains drawn, blankets like a fortress around him.  
  
He sensed Frankie's touch in the Force, like clouds, and there she was, climbing on the bed with him. "You shouldn't have drank so much, you dumb cunt."  
  
Sören weakly put up his middle finger and made another noise - any movement of his body sent a sickening pinching pulse into his head.  
  
And then Frankie was massaging his scalp with one hand, gently rubbing his upper back with the other. He felt tingling warmth in her fingertips, Force energy radiating from her hands. This time Sören made an "mmf" instead of a discomfort noise, rolling against her, snuggling into her.  
  
"That's a good lad," Frankie husked - Sören managed a smile, even though it hurt his face; she was eleven years his junior - and Frankie planted a kiss on his brow. "Just breathe."  
  
"Thassnice," Sören slurred. His head still felt like it was being squeezed, but less so.  
  
Then Sören felt another touch in the Force - this time like sunlight and sparks. Kol got on the other side of him on the bed, rubbing Sören's lower back. His hands were so very warm, and Sören gasped as he felt warmth sliding up his spine, like a serpent made of fire, up into his neck, curling around his head. The pressure began to ease some more.  
  
"Oh, wow," Sören said. "You guys are talented."  
  
Frankie lost it, gigglesnorting, and Kol managed a chuckle at that too. Sören laughed as well, even though he wasn't quite recovered enough for the laughter not to hurt. "For once I didn't mean it like that," Sören said.  
  
"Oh please, your default fucking state is meaning it like that," Frankie said, and she swatted Sören's bottom. Then Kol swatted the other ass cheek.  
  
"Well..." Sören leered. "It's obvious you took it like that, anyway." His headache was definitely dying down, still not completely gone yet but well on its way there. The warmth and tingling from Frankie and Kol's hands was having an effect on him in more ways than just relieving his headache. "The question is, can you back those words up."  
  
He knew that Frankie could, having been occasionally intimate with her for the better part of a year, having hoped when she arrived that they'd get a chance to steal away over the weekend and make love at least once. And he'd been curious about Kol for some time, more since the kiss.  
  
Frankie grabbed Sören by the curls she was petting and drew him into a kiss, sweet and sensual that exploded into wild and fiery. They both moaned into the kiss, and when they pulled apart, lips brushing, lingering, they were breathing harder. Before Sören could kiss her back, Kol took Sören's chin in his hand and tilted Sören's head to his, and now Sören and Kol were kissing, deep and hungry.  
  
Frankie peeled her camisole off, dropping on the floor, and she got off to pull down her lace panties as well. Sören moaned at the sight of her pierced nipples, the tufts of flame-red hair under her arms and the full, proud flaming bush. Kol was shirtless and when his pajama bottoms dropped to the floor he was already erect. Sören licked his lips at the sight of Kol's cock, as beautiful as the rest of him.  
  
Before he could take a taste, though, he was rolled onto his back. Frankie and Kol leaned over him, taking turns kissing him, and Sören groaned when Frankie and Kol kissed each other, gorgeous together. He reached up to stroke Frankie's red pixie cut, and to play with locks of Kol's long, darker red hair. "So lovely," he murmured.  
  
"So are you," Kol said, stroking Sören's face, and with that they descended upon him, kissing Sören's neck, his shoulders. When Frankie and Kol each drew a pierced nipple into their mouths Sören arched, bucking against them with a cry. He writhed as their tongues lapped his sensitive nipples at the same time, cried out again as they suckled once more, moaned as their tongues lashed once more. They took turns claiming his mouth as their fingers and thumbs teased Sören's nipples, rubbing, pinching, plucking, gently tugging the rings. Sören's nipples were hard-wired to his cock, jolting and twinging with each bit of loving care, and when they bent their heads to feast on them some more, licking, sucking, nibbling, Sören felt close to coming already, so soon.  
  
His cock leapt again as Frankie lowered her full, generous breasts and rubbed one of her pierced nipples against his, kissing Kol as she did so. Sören moaned, made a hissing noise as he bucked again, desperate in his need. Frankie lowered her head to lick the nipple she'd just teased and Kol licked the other one, and now Kol's hard cock was grinding against one thigh, Frankie's slick pussy against the other. Frankie leaned up with a wicked look on her face and Kol kissed her breasts, lavishing the same love with his lips and tongue that he'd given to Sören as Frankie played with Kol's hair, moaning. The sight of Kol making love to Frankie's full, gorgeous breasts was as arousing to Sören as having his own nipples teased. And he whined, wanting to taste her nipples himself.  
  
He got that chance, with Frankie coming up, her breasts in his face. As Sören drew a hard nipple into his mouth, suckling greedily, he felt Kol suckling one of his nipples again, Frankie playing with Kol's hair as he did. Sören moaned, tongue swirling around the aerole before lashing the peak, rubbing it with his tongue, fucking it, making Frankie cry out, and Frankie cried out again as he suckled, harder. His fingers and thumb played with the nipple he'd just sucked as he turned to love the other. Back and forth he went, licking, sucking, his cock aching between pleasing Frankie's breasts and the pleasure Kol was giving his own nipples.  
  
Kol's mouth trailed lower, kissing down his stomach, down a thigh, and Sören felt Kol's mouth on him then, taking Sören's cock down the root. Frankie and Sören kissed, Frankie's nipples rubbing against Sören's as their mouths met hungrily again and again. Then Frankie was sliding down him, kissing down the length of him, and when Frankie got to where Kol was expertly sucking Sören's cock, Kol stopped sucking to kiss Frankie. They parted Sören's legs together and now Frankie drew Sören into her mouth, while Kol's tongue speared inside him. The next little while was heaven, between Frankie sucking him slowly, focusing on the head and upper shaft while her hand rubbed the rest of him, and Kol's tongue dancing on the prostate. Sören thrashed about, writhed, panting, howling. He was so close yet so far, desperately needing to come, never wanting this to stop...  
  
A conspiratorial look passed between Frankie and Kol, who stopped their oral pleasure, sharing a kiss, and they rose up. Kol presented his cock to Sören, who licked feverishly at the dripping precum, teased with his tongue, licking the head and shaft all over as Kol and Frankie kissed passionately; Sören watched Kol's fingers playing between Frankie's legs, could hear the wet squishing sound of her arousal.  
  
Sören sucked Kol now, Kol gently rolling his hips and fucking Sören's mouth as Frankie rocked her hips, fucking herself on Kol's fingers. Sören reached up to caress Frankie's body with one hand and Kol's body with the other, and their hands were on him as well. Sören moaned with his mouth full, pleading with his eyes.  
  
At last they relented. Sören found himself being sandwiched between them, Kol behind him, Frankie in front of him. Frankie hooked a leg around Sören's waist and he slowly sank into her as Kol pushed into him, Kol's arms tightening around him as he went deeper. When Kol bottomed out inside him and Sören was all the way in Frankie, they rested like that for a moment, then Frankie threw her arms around him and kissed him hard, rolling her hips.  
  
They found a sensuous, silken rhythm, Kol thrusting into Sören as Sören thrust into Frankie. Kol kissed Sören's neck and shoulder as Sören and Frankie kissed, tongues teasing. Every now and again Kol tilted Sören's face so they could kiss, and Frankie leaned over Sören's shoulder to kiss Kol. They kept the pace slow for some time, languid, melting together. And then gradually it was more feverish, until the three bodies were writhing against each other, cries and screams accompanying the smack of their flesh, the wet suctioning sound of Sören inside Frankie. Sören worked up a sweat between the two of them - Kol was so warm against his back, and Kol's cock almost burned inside his passage. Frankie was so deliciously wet, and Sören played with her clit, every now and again sucking her juices from his fingers, or bringing his fingers to Kol's lips for him to taste.  
  
It was almost as if Sören and Frankie were in a contest to see who could be the loudest, but as Frankie bucked against Sören harder, grabbing his hand and guiding his fingers to rub harder, faster, Frankie's cries rose above his, and now Kol was getting more vocal too, grunting and growling as he sped up inside Sören. Sören was right on that edge, wanting Frankie to come first before he took his pleasure, but damn if the two of them weren't making it difficult to hold out, Kol's cock rubbing on his prostate, Frankie's slick heat kissing his cock again and again. And it wasn't just the sensations that aroused him, but that feeling of being absolutely safe in Kol's embrace, absolutely loved in Frankie's silver-blue eyes. For all that the great darkness was approaching, here was a moment of fire, when he could be vulnerable and fully _himself_ with two people he cared about, where he and they could surrender to those feelings fueling desire...  
  
Frankie lost control, coming with a wild cry. Sören groaned at the feel of Frankie contracting underneath his fingers, pulsing and clenching around his cock, and he moaned at the sight of Frankie's face as she climaxed, the flush in her cheeks and the light in her eyes, the surprise giving way to pure joy. Sören heard himself give a strangled sob as his own orgasm overtook him, cock spending and spending into his best friend's gripping walls. He gave another sob as Kol's heat flooded him, Kol groaning deeply as he shuddered against Sören's back.  
  
They lay there entwined, savoring the contentment of post-orgasmic bliss... but it wasn't enough. The fever to mate, to claim each other, to consume each other's fire and be consumed, rose again. Sören lay on his back against the pillows. Frankie sat on his shoulders, facing Kol, who grabbed the lube and coated Sören's cock, already slick from Frankie's juices. Sören buried himself in Frankie, loving the sweet taste of her, sweeter from his own seed inside her. It felt so deliciously depraved to eat the evidence of their tryst, that he'd had her, _fucked_ the woman he loved. Frankie cried out as Sören's tongue licked around her clit, teasing it, and then Sören cried out into her as Kol sank down on his cock.  
  
Kol rode Sören's cock as Frankie rode Sören's face, Kol and Frankie caressing each other, kissing. Caressing Sören, playing with his nipples, fingers brushing his sensitive stomach and hips and thighs. Sören licked and sucked Frankie's swollen clit, got her close to orgasm and then slipped his tongue inside her, moaning as her juices dripped on his face as she howled in frustration. Soon he was just sucking her clit hard, lips massaging her, making slurping noises as he sipped at the thick cream drenching her. Kol rode him like a wild bull, getting louder and louder, and soon Sören grabbed Kol's hips, thrusting into him, as Kol continued to work his hips and ass. Sören shook his head back and forth as he sucked Frankie's clit harder, reached with one of his hands to slip his fingers into her, working in and out. When Kol climaxed, shouting as his seed blasted over Sören's torso, Frankie came too, and Sören gave in a few thrusts later, trembling, groaning deeply with the force of his release.  
  
The three tangled up together, holding each other, and Sören dozed off. His headache was much better now. That was how Edenel found them some time later, chuckling softly.  
  
"Get up," he told Sören. "We need to spar."  
  
Sören was incredulous. "Now? Can't I have a day off?"  
  
"Our enemies don't take the day off. Meet me outside."  
  
Reluctantly, Sören got dressed, and Frankie and Kol followed him outside. Dooku and Maglor were sparring, and Frankie, Kol and Margrét watched with beer as Sören and Edenel began to fight. Sören was barely a match for Dooku and Maglor, and he was definitely outclassed by Edenel but he still gave it his best, wanting to please his uncle-almost-father, not be a disappointment.  
  
That motivation to "be good" for his uncle didn't last long, however, as Sören got increasingly frustrated with the moments where Edenel would have killed him if Sören wasn't immortal, Force sensitive, or Edenel wasn't feeling like being merciful. A punishing full nelson and chokehold here, a barely escaped knife to the heart or gut there. Once again Sören felt like he was a weakling, and that if he couldn't defend himself against his own uncle who didn't actually want to kill him, he didn't have a prayer of eventually taking on Odin and later the Valar for what had been done to his family.  
  
Sören was about ready to tell Edenel he was quitting for the day, and then Kol said, "Hold my beer," to Frankie and got up... and the next thing Sören knew, now Kol was tackling him and Edenel fought dirty, kicking Sören while he was down. Sören struggled to free himself from Kol's grip and, unbidden, the thought of being held down and raped by his ex Justin Roberts came to mind. Kol was no Justin, no rapist, but there was the memory just the same, and how _powerless_ Sören had been then.  
  
Edenel had his knives in hand once again and Sören wriggled to move out of the way before they could hit someplace they oughtn't. Sören found himself kicking Edenel in the face, knocking him over, and then, his fight-or-flight response coming up in the memory of Justin, Sören shoved Edenel with the Force, so Edenel lay prone on the ground. Sören used the Force to take one of Edenel's knives, flying into his hand, and then he stabbed Kol with it in the thigh. Kol let go and Sören got up, and now he kicked Kol too, in the gut.  
  
Edenel got up and lunged, and Sören pushed back. Kol got back up - Sören couldn't believe it, after he'd been stabbed in the thigh - and Kol also lunged for Sören. Sören worked his elbows, knees, striking anywhere he could reach, and when Edenel's arm reached out to grab Sören by the curls Sören _bit_ Edenel's arm as hard as he could.  
  
Edenel's eyes flashed white-hot. Edenel grabbed Sören. Sören threw a punch and Edenel grabbed him again and this time kissed him. Sören's cock jumped up right away, and then Kol's arms were around Sören from behind and Kol's teeth were on his neck.  
  
Edenel and Kol were dragging Sören into the house, taking turns feverishly kissing, peeling clothing off on the way to a bedroom. Sören Force threw Edenel onto the bed, who laughed as he landed, and then Sören Force threw Kol as well, and climbed on the bed with them, going over on all fours, feeling like a predatory animal. He could feel the snarl on his face, feral lust reflected in the gaze of Edenel and Kol, who looked like they wanted to eat Sören alive.  
  
Edenel reached out for Sören and pulled him close, kissing him deeply. Then Kol's arms were around Sören again. Kol spent a moment looking into Sören's eyes, a moment of tenderness in those bronze eyes before the heat returned. "I hope I did not upset you too much," Kol said softly.  
  
"I'm OK now," Sören said, patting him.  
  
"You fought well," Edenel said.  
  
"I still need work. A lot of work."  
  
Edenel nodded. "You'll get there."  
  
"Yes. You will." Kol kissed Sören then, and Sören moaned as his cock twinged. He couldn't believe he was this horny again, the sparring bringing out something wild in him.  
  
Then Sören heard something rattle. He looked and saw Edenel fishing in Margrét's makeup bag. "What are you doing?" Sören asked.  
  
Edenel produced a kohl eyeliner. "My people, the _Ithiledhil_. Before we went off to battle we would mark ourselves." He handed the eyeliner pen to Sören. "It would honor me if you would do the markings, Fëanáro."  
  
"I have no idea what to draw -"  
  
"It will come to you, as your visions do."  
  
Sören started with drawing on Edenel's face. Raining tender little kisses over Edenel's face as he drew, Sören's hard cock and Edenel's rubbing together. _May your face strike fear into your foes._  
  
Sören drew on Edenel's shoulder, kissing and licking around the angles and swirls of the design. Then he did the same to the other shoulder. He drew over Edenel's left arm, tongue laving, fingers stroking, and over the right, kissing, licking, brushing. _Strength. Power. Defend. Strike._  
  
As Sören drew on Edenel's torso, he kissed Edenel's nipples, suckling hard, feather-light dances of his tongue and then harder, faster, working the nub frenziedly, reveling in the sounds Edenel made. He kissed between the lines he drew, lips sliding down Edenel's chest to his stomach. Drawing here, kissing there. _Heart. Passion. Rage. Courage._  
  
Kol had been watching them, awed as Edenel was turned into something wild, tribal, primal underneath the pen. Now he came over and kissed Edenel deeply, passionately, as Sören drew lower, over a thigh and calf, kissing, stroking, and at last over the other. _Speed. Agility. Like a flash of light._  
  
Sören took a few teasing licks at Edenel's cock, dripping precum, and to tease yet more he grabbed Kol and rubbed his tongue against Kol's, letting him taste his lover. As Sören and Kol kissed, Edenel turned and lay on his stomach. "My back too."  
  
It was Edenel's back where the magic really came alive. Just as Sören had two birds in permanent ink on his back - one of fire, one of water - now Sören was drawing something like an eagle or a falcon. He remembered the vision he'd had last night in the club of himself in the uniform of a Norwegian soldier, the name FALKENSKJOLD on his uniform, "falcon-shield". He wondered about that now as the bird formed on Edenel's back, sharp-eyed, seeing through masks of evil. _A watcher, a guardian._  
  
Sören continued to kiss as he drew, Edenel moaning beneath Sören's lips and tongue on the sensitive flesh of his back. Kol played with Edenel's hair, and every now and again Kol kissed Sören, the fire of those kisses surging through Sören as the kohl wove its spell into Edenel's skin.  
  
At last Edenel was marked, and he rose to pull Sören's head forward, kissing Sören's brow - kissing the middle of Sören's forehead, the "third eye" - and his lips lingered for a moment, tenderly stroking Sören's curls. "Thank you, dear one. This means more to me than you know."  
  
Sören took Edenel's hands and kissed them. "I am honored that you are honored, Uncle." He stroked Edenel's cheek. "Father."  
  
Edenel took Sören's face and kissed him deeply, and then Kol kissed Sören, and Kol and Edenel kissed. Kol and Edenel looked at each other for a moment, as if they were privately discussing something between them in their mind-link, and then they fell on Sören together, pushing him back against the pillows.  
  
The three ended up in a daisy chain, Edenel's cock in Sören's mouth, Sören's cock in Kol's mouth, Kol's cock in Edenel's mouth. They sucked each other languidly, a dreamy haze of sensuality as hands roamed over bodies, slow and sweet as if they didn't want this time to end. Tongues slipped inside, rubbing the magic buttons within, producing ever-louder moans and cries, and then the cock sucking resumed, more intent than before, until they were flooding each other's mouths, trembling. Edenel tasted like a clear mountain spring, and Sören couldn't get enough.  
  
They switched places and now Sören was sucking Kol, Edenel was sucking Sören, and Kol was sucking Edenel. Kol's cock was so warm in Sören's mouth, so comforting. Hands wandered and fingers walked, brushed, played over sensitized flesh. They sucked and ate each other until another climax overtook them, Sören drinking down the spicy-sweet cinnamon-like flavor of Kol, savoring Edenel's moans as Edenel swallowed down all Sören had to give.  
  
They came up and kissed, still hungry, still needy. Three hard cocks rubbed together, taking turns in each other's grip, precum collected on fingers, sucking each other's fingers before more kisses. Kol and Edenel began to kiss Sören's neck together, and Sören cried out, rubbing against them more insistently. "Oh god," Sören panted. "Please..."  
  
"We want to take you together," Edenel whispered.  
  
"Yes." Kol nibbled Sören's shoulder. "It would honor us even more if your forge hallowed our blades, Fëanáro."  
  
Sören couldn't say no to that. He lubed Edenel's cock, straddled him, and sank down. Kol got behind him and after a few of Edenel's thrusts, Kol pushed into him, his cock joining Edenel's deep inside. Even as Sören was open from earlier penetration, and he was seasoned in being taken this way by Maglor and Dooku, Edenel and Kol felt like an almost impossibly tight fit. But Sören was deliciously full just the same, moaning as their cocks rocked away inside him, the pressure and friction more intense for being so stuffed.  
  
Edenel and Kol tried to go slowly and gently at first, not wanting to hurt Sören, but it wasn't long before Sören was bucking, crying out, urging them on harder, faster. Their bodies slammed together, a rhythm like war drums. Sören began to sweat, panting and gasping, his cries getting louder as they pounded inside him and Sören rode, bouncing on Edenel, slapping against Kol's hips, giving back as good as he got. Completely lost in savage lust that felt like a force of nature unleashed, a wildfire threatening to consume everything in its path, Sören rode and rode, screaming until his voice was hoarse. And then at last, the orgasm detonated through all three of them, blinding in its glory. Sören took their hands, contracting around them as their molten flow ran into him, marking him on the inside just as surely as Sören had inked Edenel's flesh, Sören's seed joining the kohl now over Edenel's torso.  
  
 _You will come back to me,_ Sören spoke into their minds. _Once I have claimed something, it is always mine._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The vision Sören has of himself dancing with Frankie and Claire in the uniform that bears the name FALKENSKJOLD is from the [_In Spite of Terror_](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1542220) 'verse, and specifically the story [_When the Lights Go On Again_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21391876).
> 
>  _Once I have claimed something, it is always mine._ \- is a quote directly from Fëanor in Spiced_Wine's Magnificat I.


	6. King of Sorrow

**King of Sorrow**

  
  
  
On Sunday morning, it rained, which seemed to be appropriate weather for the departure of Kol and Edenel. They were going to be leaving this world via the Portal of the Dimmuborgir, which meant they needed a ride out there. After a brief discussion it was decided that Sören would drive them, and Frankie would ride along to say one last goodbye to Kol. Sören asked Margrét if she wanted to come along but she shook her head vehemently and said, "If I do, I won't be able to let them leave."  
  
Frankie rode shotgun, and Kol and Edenel sat in the back of Sören's jeep. All four were quiet on the hour-long drive from Akureyi to the Dimmuborgir; Sören didn't even have music playing as he drove, as it didn't feel right. The only sound was the clack of the windshield wipers and rain beating against the car, the purr of the engine.  
  
The closer they got to the destination, the heavier Sören felt, a lump in his throat, and by the time they pulled up at the eerie black lava structure, made more eerie in the rain and fog, Sören's eyes were as misty as the weather outside. Sören, Frankie, Kol and Edenel got out of the jeep, and Kol and Edenel walked on ahead, hand in hand, with Sören and Frankie following close behind.  
  
There was nobody else at the Dimmuborgir on this rainy afternoon, which was good with the nature of what was about to happen. As Kol and Edenel approached the arch, Sören noticed the hollow underneath beginning to glow softly, like the Elves did when they were unglamoured. Frankie's jaw dropped and her breath caught, and Sören felt a frisson down his spine, but he knew the real show was yet to come.  
  
Kol and Edenel paused a foot away from the entrance, and turned around to face them.  
  
"So, you're just gonna... step through... and go where it is you're going?" Frankie asked.  
  
Kol and Edenel nodded.  
  
"I used the Portal once," Sören told Frankie. "Van took me." He looked at Kol and Edenel. "You just... step through and will yourself there, right?"  
  
"Correct," Kol said. "If you have a mental image of where you're going, and can state your will, you can go there without getting lost."  
  
"So, is Scotty beamin' you up?" Frankie's lips quirked.  
  
"It's less like a transporter from your _Star Trek_ and more like a door," Kol said. "It doesn't reassemble our molecules, it just... folds space, I guess you could say."  
  
"That's good, because I like your molecules just fine the way they are," Frankie said, giving Kol a swat.  
  
Sören snorted, Edenel chuckled, and Kol grinned. "I'll miss you, my love," Kol said to her. He looked at Sören, bronze eyes blazing. "Both of you."  
  
"I'll miss you too," Edenel said, his silver-white eyes locked with Sören's. "I wish we had more time."  
  
Sören nodded, getting choked up again. "Me too."  
  
"Yeah, I'll miss you cunts," Frankie said, reaching out to hug Edenel, then she gave Kol a hard, fierce, tight squeeze, tears spilling down Frankie's cheeks. Kol ruffled Frankie's hair and bent to kiss the top of her head.  
  
Sören stepped forward, feeling surprisingly shy even after what they'd done last night. He gave Kol a hug - Kol was so warm, even in the cold, damp rain - and then he clung to Edenel, whose arms tightened around him, rocking him for a moment.  
  
"Ada," Sören croaked, a sob threatening to tear out of him.  
  
Edenel planted a kiss on Sören's brow, and then their lips met and they kissed hungrily. Sören resisted the urge to push Edenel down into the grass and keep them here longer, mating, rutting. They pulled apart, lips brushing, lingering, breathing hard, and Sören's eyes met Edenel's once more.  
  
Edenel's voice was raspy with emotion. "Take care of yourself, Fëanáro. And each other." Edenel looked at Frankie and reached out to rub her shoulder.  
  
Edenel and Kol took each other's hands then, and turned around. Sören grabbed Frankie and pushed her a few steps back - a wind started to kick up, and Sören watched as the archway glowed more intensely. When Edenel and Kol stepped through, swallowed up by the white light, the wind howled, rain pouring harder, and the white glow turned blue, then ultraviolet, making everything else around them glow ultraviolet for a few seconds. Sören felt a rush of heat, like a furnace had just opened right in front of him.  
  
Then the glow was gone, and there was nothing under the arch. Kol and Edenel had vanished.  
  
Sören remembered his mamma mentioning she'd met one of the _huldufólk_ right here at the Dimmuborgir when she was small, who had violet eyes and pointy ears, and she'd kept returning over the years with the hopes of seeing him again. Sören knew that was Vanimórë she had seen back in the 1960s, and he wondered if his mother had seen what he'd just seen but in reverse, with the flashing lights, a man materializing out of nowhere. Even _knowing_ that the Dimmuborgir was a gate to other worlds and dimensions, it was one thing to know it and another to see it in action. Sören was shaken - Sören was shaking, knees wobbling - and he was a grown man, he couldn't imagine what it had been like for his mother as a small child.  
  
Frankie and Sören looked at each other, saying nothing. Then Frankie threw her arms around Sören and hugged him tight, and Sören's arms wrapped around her, holding her as tightly as he could. The dam broke and the tears came, both of them sobbing, clinging to each other and rocking, like two lost children.  
  
"He's gone," Frankie cried. "Oh god, Sören, he's gone... Kol's gone..."  
  
"I know." Sören felt a tight ache in his chest. First Van, now Kol and Edenel... the sense of _loss_ tore at him.  
  
"He's gone off to this... bloody... stupid... fucking... war... _shite_... and I don't know if I'll ever see him again." Frankie buried her face in Sören, weeping so hard she was howling, keening, shrieking like a banshee. "I love him so much..."  
  
He had to be strong for her. "I know, _elskan_. And he loves you too, stupid war or not, he wouldn't leave if he didn't have to." Sören smoothed Frankie's hair, rubbed her head, her back. "I can't offer you false hope, false promises. I won't offer you platitudes, empty words of comfort. I can only tell you _I'm_ here and I'm not going anywhere. You can lean on me. You can lean on my sister. That's all we can do."  
  
They continued to hold each other, weeping, tears as wild as the rain that pelted them, and at last Sören pulled back, took Frankie's hands, and said, "Come on, the jeep is warm and dry."  
  
Sören began to drive back in the direction of Akureyri, and a few minutes into the drive, Frankie told him, "I don't want to go back to your place immediately. I'm too much of a fucking wreck."  
  
Sören nodded. He wasn't exactly keen on that either, even though Dooku and Maglor and Margrét had seen him cry plenty of times. "You have an idea of where you want to go?"  
  
"Someplace where there's not gonna be a ton of people."  
  
Sören gave a wry chuckle. "This is Iceland, Frankie. There's a lot of places like that."  
  
"Yeah, no shit, you knew what I meant." Frankie gave him a look, and at the guilty smile Sören gave her she returned a tight, sad smile of her own.  
  
"I think I know a place," Sören said.  
  
It was a place where he often went when he was sad, once he was old enough to drive. The Goðafoss was approximately a forty-minute drive from the Dimmuborgir, a little longer than that with Sören driving more slowly in the rain, cautiously. Once Sören planned his route, he put on music, wanting to try to get out of his head at least a little bit. With Frankie in the car, he went for a playlist of punk and goth rock. He hit shuffle and an upbeat song by The Ramones started things off.  
  
 _Hey ho, let's go  
Hey ho, let's go  
Hey ho, let's go  
Hey ho, let's go  
  
They're forming in a straight line  
They're going through a tight wind  
The kids are losing their minds  
The Blitzkrieg Bop  
  
They're piling in the back seat  
They're generating steam heat  
Pulsating to the back beat  
The Blitzkrieg Bop_  
  
It seemed a bit out of place with the rain and the fog and the lonely Icelandic highway and the sadness of two of their family riding off to war, but also just what they needed to begin the process of trying to get back to something approaching normal... normal for them, a new normal in time of trouble.  
  
No matter how many times he'd seen the Goðafoss waterfall throughout his lifetime, it was still a place of wonder for Sören, watching the powerful falls rush down into their pool, a pool where the lawspeaker Þorgeir Ljósvetningagoði had thrown down his idols, renouncing the old gods, turning Iceland to Christianity. Sören was no fan of Christianity - the religion of his fanatic aunt, who had used Christ's name as a crutch to justify her abuse - but he was even less of a fan of the Norse gods, with Odin having damaged their family at least as much as the Valar had, being directly responsible for his parents' deaths. It had become not simply a place of wonder for Sören, but a place of power, knowing Odin's hold over the country had been broken there over a thousand years ago, and it was no wonder he was so drawn to the place beyond its natural beauty. Sören had seen in Olórin's _palantir_ over a year ago that Fëanor was the Fenrir-wolf prophesied to destroy Odin - Odin had, in his attempt to thwart fate by going after Sören's parents, ensured that Sören would be out for his blood. Sören was nowhere near ready to take on the likes of Odin, not even sure that he'd be able to handle whatever the effects of the Dagorath would be rippling from the original world of Vanimórë, Kol and Edenel into this one, but someday...  
  
 _The wolf will drink from the falls, until only your blood is what slakes my thirst, Bölverkr._  
  
Sören admired the falls from a distance at first, with he and Frankie just sitting in the front seat of the jeep, watching the rushing water, holding hands. The mist of the falls added to the mist of the rain, shrouding the falls but they still peeked through, roaring, beckoning. Sören and Frankie waited, as if they were trying to pull themselves together a little more before taking a walk to look at them more closely.  
  
In any case, the jeep was warm and cozy, and Frankie was cozy too, leaning on Sören's shoulder as the music went on.  
  
 _When they kick at your front door  
How you gonna come?  
With your hands on your head  
Or on the trigger of your gun  
  
When the law break in  
How you gonna go?  
Shot down on the pavement  
Or waiting on death row  
  
You can crush us  
You can bruise us  
But you'll have to answer to  
Oh, the guns of Brixton_  
  
Frankie's hand left Sören's hand and rested on his knee, then began to slowly slide up his thigh. Sören felt his cock stir, hardening yet further as he remembered Frankie's touch yesterday, remembered her naked body on his...  
  
"I love you, you know," Frankie husked.  
  
"I love you too." Sören reached to cup Frankie's chin in his hand, tilting her face to hers, and leaned in for a kiss.  
  
One kiss became another, and another, tongues playing, searching, inviting. Frankie's hand went right to the hard bulge in Sören's jeans, and Sören cupped a breast, thumb rubbing a nipple through Frankie's shirt, making her moan into the kiss. Sören began to kiss Frankie's neck, making her moan louder, as Sören's fingers rubbed her nipple in slow, lazy circles.  
  
"Do me," Frankie breathed.  
  
They got out of the front seat of the jeep and quickly climbed into the back, leaving the music on. Frankie shoved Sören back, and he grinned up at her as she peeled off the hooded sweatshirt she was wearing as a jacket, then her T-shirt and turtleneck. He did the honors of unhooking the front clasp of her bra, and it was his turn to moan as her full, luscious breasts sprang free. Frankie leaned over Sören and he hungrily drew a pierced nipple into his mouth as Frankie clutched his head, petting his curls.  
  
"And to think," Frankie teased, "once upon a time you said you were 'totally gay'."  
  
Sören stopped suckling for a moment. "I also told you that you had nice tits. That you were beautiful." His hands ran appreciatively over her soft, thick curves. "I think I was in denial about how I felt for you." He frowned. "I had absolutely shite low self-esteem after, you know, Maglor left."  
  
"I know. It's how you ended up with that Justin Roberts." Frankie gave a fierce scowl, her eyes murderous even when Justin was long dead - thanks to the return of Maglor. Then she smiled fondly at Sören, stroking his face. "I mean, I was in denial, too. I've always preferred girls, but... you're so pretty." Her thumb traced Sören's full lips and he sucked on it, making her groan. "I was trying very hard to not fancy you."  
  
"If only we'd pulled our heads out of our arses." Sören reached up to stroke Frankie's face, pet her short pixie cut. "Things could have been a lot different."  
  
"Yeah, maybe you'd never have ended up with Justin." Frankie leaned in to kiss him. "It could have been you and me, every night..."  
  
Sören and Frankie both moaned into another kiss. When they pulled apart, breathing harder, they looked into each other's eyes before kissing open-mouthed, tongues rubbing together, playful, sensual and teasing. Sören claimed a breast again, then, thumb and fingers playing with the other nipple, as Frankie worked on getting her jeans off. When Frankie pushed back from Sören for a moment to start taking off her panties, Sören let out a moan at the wet spot he saw.  
  
"Jesus." He let out a low whistle.  
  
"I'm so wet for you, Sören."  
  
Sören gave her a wicked grin. "Hi So Wet For You -"  
  
"Twat." She tossed her panties at his face.  
  
She was completely nude now, and he was not. Sören kicked off his boots and Frankie began to undo Sören's jeans, then took down his boxer briefs. She took his hard cock into her hand, stroking slowly as she leaned back down to kiss him. Sören pushed her up for a moment to take off his red plaid flannel shirt and the Joy Division T-shirt he wore underneath and now he was naked too. Frankie smiled as she came back down to take his mouth once more, and they moaned together as her breasts pressed against his chest, her hard, pierced nipples rubbing his hard, pierced nipples, both of them deliciously sensitive.  
  
Sören's fingers stole between Frankie's legs, probing the wetness. He slowly rubbed her slick, swollen clit, making Frankie shiver, kissing him more insistently. He started working on her neck again, and went back to feasting on her breasts, tongue lashing her nipples with wild hunger. One of Frankie's hands slid down to join Sören's on her dripping pussy while her other hand continued playing with his hard cock. With her juices on her fingers, she brought them to Sören's lips to taste and he sucked and licked her fingers, making her moan as she watched him. He needed more. He pulled back his hand from her clit, smirking at the whimper she made of protest, and he rubbed her juices onto her nipples, licking and sucking them even more fervently than before, making her howl and buck against the hand that went back between her legs. Again and again he anointed her nipples with her slick musk, savoring the taste of her, until Frankie was panting, rocking against his hand. He patted his shoulders. "You know what I want," he husked.  
  
Frankie scooted up, climbed on his shoulders, and sat on his face. Sören dug in, eating her fast and furious, burying his face in her as his tongue fucked her clit, as he sucked it hard, making filthy slurping noises as he did. His fingers slipped inside her, banging away, the wet suctioning sound of her wetness joining the sound of his slurping and her moans and groans. Soon she was riding his face, fucking herself on his fingers, the car filled with the sound of her broken cries. Sören smiled to himself against her as The Ramones played while she bounced on his face.  
  
 _Twenty-twenty-twenty four hours to go  
I wanna be sedated  
Nothin' to do and nowhere to go  
I wanna be sedated  
Just get me to the airport  
Put me on a plane  
Hurry hurry hurry before I go insane  
I can't control my fingers  
I can't control my brain  
Oh no no no no no_  
  
There was something that tickled Sören's eccentric sense of humor about the reincarnations of Fëanor and Lalwen getting it on in the back seat of a jeep to punk rock. It was a nice change of mood, from melancholy to delight, and he sucked on her harder, fingers fucking faster, Frankie making guttural noises now.  
  
"Don't stop don't stop don'tstopdon'tstopdon'tstop," Frankie cried out, shuddering.  
  
A couple of minutes later she had her first climax, contracting around Sören's fingers and beneath his tongue, gushing on his face. Sören gave her pulsing flower a last few slow licks, producing deep moans. He licked his lips, savoring the sweetly tart musk of her, feeling a bit wistful for how things could have indeed been if they'd been a couple back when they were living in a shabby flat over her aunt's coffee shop in Greenwich, living hand-to-mouth. He knew that Vanimórë had suggested in 2015 that he move to London for a reason - he found Fingolfin-Dooku and Lalwen-Frankie there, and he imagined that even if he and Frankie had been an item when his path crossed with Dooku's in 2017, things would have aligned.  
  
Sören once again felt that little ache - all of Fëanor's siblings were present and accounted for except for Finarfin. Sören frowned.  
  
"You OK, mate?" Frankie poked him.  
  
Sören nodded.  
  
"Let's get whatever it was off your mind and take care of you, yeah?" Frankie's hands were on his cock again.  
  
"Please," Sören said.  
  
Frankie scooted down to Sören's hips, and Sören guided his cock to her cleft. He moaned as he watched her sink down, taking him inch by inch, her juices flowing over his shaft. When he was all the way inside, they both cried out.  
  
Then Frankie began to ride, with Sören grabbing her hips and thrusting into her, matching her rhythm. Frankie once again made guttural noises as she bucked on him like she was riding a wild bull, and Sören groaned at the sight of her bouncing breasts, her lush curves in motion like a thick, sensuous bellydancer. One hand moved from her hip to start working her clit in time with their fuck, the other caressing her, enjoying the feel of her skin, the softness of her body. Every now and again he switched hands, bringing the fingers that had been on her clit to her mouth for her to taste herself, while the hand that explored her body teased around and around her clit.  
  
Sören and Frankie exchanged a grin at the music in the background, The Clash again.  
  
 _By order of the prophet  
We ban that boogie sound  
Degenerate the faithful  
With that crazy Casbah sound  
But the Bedouin they brought out  
The electric camel drum  
The local guitar picker  
Got his guitar picking thumb  
As soon as the shareef  
Had cleared the square  
They began to wail  
  
The shareef don't like it  
Rock the Casbah  
Rock the Casbah  
The shareef don't like it  
Rock the Casbah  
Rock the Casbah_  
  
"I love you, cunt," Frankie said.  
  
"I love you, too."  
  
When they got close, the words of love came back, flowing more freely, as if the loss of Edenel and Kol - whether temporary or not - had given them a sense of urgency to express how they felt, especially when they were making up for lost time. "I love you love you love you loveyouloveyouloveyou," Frankie cried, riding as hard as she could.  
  
"Oh god, Frankie. I love you. I love you. _I love you._ I love you, love you, love you. _Ég elska þig, ástin mín..._ "  
  
"Sören. _Sören._ Don't stop, you're gonna make me come..." Frankie shuddered, pushing against his hand. "Don'tstopdon'tstop I'm gonna come you're gonna make me fuckin' _COME_ -" And then she howled, throwing her head back. "Sören! Oh _god_! Sören! _Yes!_ "  
  
The feel of her walls pulsing around him sent Sören flying, crying out " _Elskan_ " as he lost control, shooting deep inside her. Two last hard bucks and Frankie fell onto him, the two of them trembling. They held each other, laughing, crying, sobbing, kissing each other's tears as their bodies throbbed and tingled and melted.  
  
The jeep windows were completely fogged. Judging from the sound, the rain was still coming down, though it wasn't pouring hard like it had been when they arrived, it was a lighter rain now. They continued to hold each other for a few minutes, petting, listening to the rain. Then Frankie reached for the panties that were sitting by Sören's head on the back seat. Before she could grab them to put them on, Sören found himself grabbing her wrist, stopping her, getting a wild, weird whim, something that would help them get on their way to being less broken and fucked up when they got back to Sören's house in Akureyri, beyond the orgasm they'd just had.  
  
"I have an idea," Sören said.  
  
When he and Frankie were sitting up in the back of the jeep together, naked, then Sören got out of the jeep, completely naked. There was no one else around at the Goðafoss right now.  
  
"Sören! You're - you're naked!" Frankie shouted.  
  
"No shit," Sören said, walking a few paces out of the jeep. Then he turned around and made a sweeping "get over here" gesture.  
  
"Sören, have you lost your fucking mind?"  
  
Sören nodded, grinning. "Yes."  
  
A minute later Frankie was out of the jeep too, completely naked. "I can't _fucking_ believe I'm doing this," Frankie said, giggling hysterically.  
  
"We're doing this." Sören put an arm around Frankie and began walking her towards the falls.  
  
The cool rain felt good on Sören's fevered skin, but also something felt sacred and right about approaching the falls, looking so magical as they did with mists swirling around them in the rain, naked as the day they were born. Naked and unashamed. It felt like they were performing some kind of ritual, though what sort, Sören didn't know. He only knew that in his post-orgasmic high, he felt that familiar thrum of glowing power through him, like he was made of light - this was the energy that made him feel at his most creative when he was at his most sexual, and at his most sexual when he was feeling his most creative. Fire fueling fire. Frankie's energy thrummed with his, now, her joy post-orgasm infectious as she giggled and snorted, leaning on him.  
  
"Sören, you mad lad, this is the most daft thing you've ever done."  
  
"Oh, I don't know about that." Sören continued leading her to the edge of the falls. "It just... it just feels right, somehow, you know?"  
  
"I think I know, yeah." Frankie's eyes seemed far away then, like she was looking at another time, another place.  
  
They came to the edge of the Goðafoss and stood there, naked, watching the misty waterfall, hearing the water rush and roar, feeling the primordial power of the unstoppable torrent. They took each other's hands, a reverent, hushed awe coming over them. Every time that Sören had come here previously to mark a new chapter of his life, he'd tossed a coin into the falls as a sort of superstitious ritual he did for good luck. And even though Edenel and Kol had just gone off to their part to play in the Dagor Dagorath, which would impact this world from theirs somehow, Sören had no coin to give this time, naked. He just stood, honoring the power of nature, the elements, feeling a oneness with it within himself.  
  
And then he saw something shimmer in the falls, a bright light as if someone had turned on a lightbulb or shone a flashlight into the water. Which made no sense.  
  
And then he and Frankie watched, open-mouthed, as the light rose up and up and up up up, brighter and brighter, until it was sparkling above them like a small sun, a rainbow shining in the mists.  
  
The light came towards them and Sören, without thinking about it, opened his hand. The light fell into his hand like he was catching a ball, and his fingers wrapped around it, thrumming. It was solid in his hand, like a piece of glass cut into facets, but more. So much more.  
  
"Oh. My. _God._ " Frankie blinked, slowly.  
  
It rested in Sören's hand, warm and pulsing, shining over them like someone had turned on a very bright light.  
  
"Is that what I think it is?" Frankie asked.  
  
Sören nodded solemnly. "It's a Silmaril." He rolled it around in his hand, thumb rubbing it. "I now have two out of the three."  
  
"Holy _shit._ "  
  
Sören brought the Silmaril to his lips and kissed it. The rain was starting to die down. "Let's head back," he said, feeling a prickle of caution - not about being naked out here, but about having the Silmaril out in the open, like it was potentially a big target sign, whereas at home behind their wards it was safer.  
  
They got their clothes on and drove home. On the way to Akureyri it stopped raining, and the sun pierced through the clouds, tinging the air golden, enough that it created a gold tint to the Silmaril when Sören looked at it, sitting in the cup holder of his jeep between him and Frankie, reminiscent of a champagne diamond but so much more intense. And once again, reminded of the silver-gold hair of Finarfin that had been part of the inspiration for the jewels, he felt that ache.  
  
 _O brother, where art thou?_  
  
  
_  
  
  
Maglor and Margrét were having tea in the living room when they got in, looking a little dazed. Sören could hear Dooku's basso muffled, rising and falling down the hall from the bedroom, which sounded like he was on the phone. There was a weird tense energy wafting down from there, but even as Sören's impulse was to check on Fingolfin, always, there was this one thing to attend to first - Maglor's eyes widened, because even with Sören holding the Silmaril in a fist behind his back as he walked through the door, trying to keep it somewhat of a surprise, Sören knew that Maglor was familiar enough with the energy and would see a glow behind Sören's head.  
  
Sören brought out his hand and opened his fist, using the Force so the jewel hovered a few inches above his palm, turning over and over, shining and shining, casting infinite rainbows on the walls.  
  
Maglor's jaw dropped. "You found the second Silmaril."  
  
Sören nodded. "I did."  
  
Maglor got up from the couch, pulled Sören into a fierce hug, and kissed him passionately. With the hand that had once been scarred from the Silmaril he threw into the sea, before Sören reclaimed it at Reynisfjara and his hand was healed almost a year ago, Maglor reached out, now using the Force himself to pull the stone to him. When it was in his palm, Sören's hand closed over his, and Maglor let out a little sob before he and Sören kissed again. Maglor gave the stone back to Sören and they held each other tight, rocking each other, crying together.  
  
Then Dooku came out from the hallway, looking as if he'd seen a ghost. Sören _felt_ it before he saw it, melancholy rising like a tidal wave. Sören would have assumed it was because Dooku had gotten rather attached to Uncle Edenel and now he was gone and Dooku was taking it badly, but this wasn't it.  
  
"What, Nico?" Sören asked.  
  
Dooku cleared his throat. His cell phone was in his hand. "I'm sorry to interrupt -" He glanced at the Silmaril, his eyes apologetic and mournful.  
  
"It must be important," Maglor said, and Sören nodded.  
  
Dooku looked down, then he took a deep breath and looked up. "That was Obi, calling from London. Qui-Gon's dead."


	7. London Calling

**London Calling**

  
  
  
Sören's jaw dropped. "Qui. Is... dead."  
  
"Yes." Dooku took a seat on the coffee table.  
  
Maglor poured Dooku a mug of tea, then he got up and walked to the kitchen. He came back with a bottle of Auchentoshan and shot glasses. He used the Force to pour one for Dooku, hands-free, as he sat next to Dooku on the couch, arms around him. Sören stood there a moment in shock, then he rushed right over to the other side of the couch, put down the Silmaril next to the bottle of whisky, and threw his arms around Dooku. Dooku wasn't crying - not yet, though his eyes were too bright with unshed, threatened tears. He had an incredibly sad, haunted look on his face, one that Sören would have done anything, given anything, to take away.  
  
"So to clarify," Sören said, because in light of what happened with his aunts Gitta and Jane you never knew, "when you mean dead, you mean actually dead, _dead_ dead, not faked death to become immortal and go off to another country or something -"  
  
"Sören, Qui never took the blood from Vanimórë. You know that." Dooku sighed. "And it had become rather a... point of contention."  
  
At Frankie and Margrét's wedding in August 2019, the offer of immortality was made by Vanimórë to anyone in the family - including the extended family - and it was a standing offer for those who needed time to think about it, vials of blood being left with Kol and Edenel. Dooku was going to accept if Sören did, and Sören ended up accepting for Maglor's sake. Dooku had talked with the two people he considered his unofficially adopted children - Joaquin "Qui-Gon" Gonzalez, a veterinarian, and Leja Bollasdóttir Sulu, a gallery owner, both Force-sensitive - who also turned out to be the reincarnations of Argon and Aredhel respectively, two of Fingolfin's four children. Both Qui and Leja had expressed reservations with accepting the offer themselves, but they told Dooku they would support whatever decision he made... at the time.  
  
What was true in theory turned out to prove less true in practice after Dooku did in fact take the gift of Vanimórë's blood and ceased aging, was no longer susceptible to human diseases, and while his own appearance remained that of a well-preserved elderly man, in many ways his health and stamina returned to that of his younger years - Dooku could run again, as one example. With the "new normal" of immortality, Vanimórë had left them an additional gift, a point of contact in MI6 who would assist Sören, Dooku, and Maglor with moving around safely when their time in any given location exceeded its "shelf life" with lack of aging, usually approximately ten years or so. Their "fixer", Charlie Audley, had been very no-nonsense about "normal people" actions they took for granted and would need to stop effective immediately to make this work, which included no social media profiles if possible. The large extended family had maintained a private chat server for everyone to keep in touch scattered as they were in different parts of the world, such as Dag being in Canada, and Charlie had made them get rid of that too, showing Sören, Dooku, and Maglor in-person that the chat wasn't anywhere near as private as they thought it was, producing the entire chat server's logs which MI6 had been covertly monitoring for over a year. "We have this and we're on your side," Charlie told them. "You don't want any of this sensitive information getting out to people who _aren't_ on your side."  
  
The limitations of what they could discuss over the Internet made it more difficult to keep in touch, and seeing the physical evidence of immortality on top of that had also produced awkwardness with Qui and Leja, as if Dooku had moved firmly into a world where they could not come along. Dooku, who loved his children, tried to convince Qui, his partner Obi, and Leja to please accept Vanimórë's blood and keep the family together, and Qui-Gon doubled down - earlier in spring 2020, Qui had told Dooku he wasn't comfortable with the idea of "cheating death" on a world that was overpopulated, had environmental problems and so many societal ills. He gave Dooku a bit of a philosophical lecture about the cycles of death and rebirth being necessary to the balance of life on the planet, which Dooku took personally as a condemnation of his choice to become immortal, which he'd done out of love for Sören and Maglor - Maglor who did not need to be lectured about such things, with the kind of experiences he'd had. Qui and Dooku henceforth had a bit of a falling-out and had kept distance from each other, and Leja, claiming she was put in the middle and didn't want to take sides between them, nonetheless seemed to side with Qui-Gon and Obi, falling out of touch with Dooku all but occasionally.  
  
Dooku had known since then, of course, that the day would come when they would die, but he was not expecting Qui-Gon to die now. Qui-Gon was only ten years his junior - sixty-two years old, which was not even really old these days - and he'd been in what seemed like good health.  
  
Dooku knocked back a glass of Auchentoshan, neat. He frowned and leaned back against the couch. Maglor had an arm around him and Sören's hand was on Dooku's knee. Dooku reached for Sören's hand, holding it; Sören rubbed his thumb against Dooku's hand tenderly.  
  
"So Obi called you," Sören said. "After all this time and distance and tension, he at least had the courtesy and decency to let you know Qui passed on..."  
  
"Sudden heart attack," Dooku said. "And..." Dooku snorted. His nostrils flared and brow furrowed with indignance. "You needn't call it courtesy and decency - he decided to wait until now to tell me. The wake is _tomorrow_. Afternoon. He said, 'Oh, I know you probably can't make it on such short notice, but...'" His nostrils flared again. "Hmph. I feel _obligated_ to attend now, short notice or no. Whatever Obi might think of me at the moment, whatever Qui-Gon may have thought of me, _he was still my son._ Fingolfin was still Argon's father. And I shan't prove whatever it is Obi and Leja want to think of me by not attending. That said... it _is_ on very, very short notice. I was planning on calling our friend Charlie Audley when I've had a bit of time to clear my head here, to ask her to procure tickets for my departure and return, as you know she has told us to let her handle things when we leave the country, but I imagine she won't be thrilled with my request -"  
  
Maglor put up a hand. "Don't ask Charlie."  
  
Dooku glared at Maglor. "Don't tell me not to attend this wake, Macalaurë. I _must_. Dear as you are to me, you shan't stop me. _No one_ can," he said, glaring over at Sören now as well, though Sören knew better after close to three years together than to get in Dooku's way.  
  
"Nicolae, I did not tell you to not go to the wake." Maglor gave him a stern look in return. "I told you not to ask Charlie about a flight there and back." Maglor pursed his lips. "Do you remember summer 2019, when I was visiting Svalbarðseyri and then I said I had to go to London on very short notice for emergency business and I came back and then you heard about the death of Justin Roberts on the news?"  
  
"I remember," Dooku said, nodding.  
  
Sören also nodded - the abuse from Justin, the repeated rapes, still haunted him years later, and though he'd had some initial discomfort with the idea of Justin being murdered, he was still touched that Maglor had gone to that length to avenge him.  
  
"You deserve a fuckin' medal for that," Frankie piped up, and Margrét nodded with a fierce scowl.  
  
"Should have brought us with you to get some licks in," Margrét said.  
  
Maglor nodded. "Nothing like a Finwion family beatdown." He gave a small, humorless smile. "Anyway... when I went to London to... handle all of that. I didn't fly there. I didn't want to take the risk of leaving a trail that could be followed back to me in case things got hot. I used the Portal."  
  
"You left by the Dimmuborgir, like Kol and Edenel did today, já?" Sören asked. His mind's eye recalled watching Kol and Edenel step through the arch and disappear in a flash of light.  
  
"I did," Maglor said. "Vanimórë told me what to do."  
  
"I bet," Sören muttered as he stole a sip of Dooku's tea.  
  
Maglor glared and Sören gave him an innocent face, batting his eyes.  
  
"So you're suggesting I use the Portal," Dooku said. "That seems rather extreme just to avoid annoying Charlie by asking her to coordinate a flight -"  
  
"I don't care whether Charlie is annoyed or not," Maglor said bluntly. "It's her job to deal with us and all the curveballs we throw her and her agents. My reasoning for asking you to take the Portal is more straightforward. Kol and Edenel just left for the Dagor Dagorath, which they say is set to happen any time now. We can't be certain _when_ the battle will happen - could be an hour from now, could be weeks from now - and we can't be certain what the effects will be on this world when it happens, only that it _will_ be affected, but I for one would prefer that you not be _in a plane flying over an ocean_ in the meantime."  
  
"Fair," Dooku said. "Where was the other terminus of the Portal, when you arrived in England?"  
  
"There are several I could have used," Maglor said. "I went with Wayland's Smithy as it's more quiet... less-trafficked... less chance of being seen. London has been having some nice rain and fog as of late, it should be safe for you to materialize over there."  
  
"All right." Dooku nodded. "That's about..." He did the mental math. "A two-hour drive from London, judging from the last time I visited the Smithy."  
  
"Oh, you've been?" Sören's eyebrows went up in surprise.  
  
Dooku nodded again. "Even though I pursued a career in law, history has always been a passion of mine, and in the 1980s and 1990s I did some traveling around the country to visit certain ancient sites. It was intriguing. Qui went with me for some of it so this seems rather... apt." Dooku readied his cell phone again and dialed the number that had just called him. After two rings Obi picked up. "Hello, Obi? This is Dooku again. Yes. The wake is at 1 PM tomorrow, you said? I'll be there."  
  
"I'm coming with you," Sören hissed, not wanting Dooku to be alone during this difficult time.  
  
"And Sören is coming with me." A pause, as Obi spoke on his end, a note of surprise in his muffled voice. "Yes, I know it's short notice, but it's also a... short flight." A wry smile. "But if you wouldn't mind terribly, would you be willing to pick me and Sören up? We're... taking a trip to Wayland's Smithy... in Qui's honor. As you know, Qui-Gon went with me to see several historic sites around the UK, when he was younger." Dooku glanced at Sören, as Obi's voice rose and fell on his end, and Dooku nodded to himself. "10 AM pickup, Sören? That gives us two hours to get to London for the wake, with an hour to spare."  
  
Sören frowned. He wasn't a morning person, and they'd have to leave earlier than 10 AM to get to the Dimmuborgir and even just dress up in something befitting a funeral. Sören hadn't worn a suit in years. A suit and doing things in the morning - not his idea of a good time. But then, neither was leaving Dooku alone when he was hurting like this. Sören gave the thumbs up.  
  
More of Obi's voice. "All right," Dooku said finally. "We'll see you then." He hit End, and exhaled sharply. This time Dooku was the one to use the Force to pour himself a glass of whisky.  
  
"I'm very sorry about this interrupting the... celebration of the return of the Silmaril," Dooku said, patting Sören's hands.  
  
Sören shrugged. "Shit happens. Not your fault Qui is dead." He felt a sharp pang - he'd been fond of Qui-Gon, before the falling-out, and Argon had been one of Fëanor's favorite nephews. Mostly, he hurt for Dooku, knowing behind that British stiff upper lip his husband was feeling devastated, most of all because Dooku and Qui-Gon had not reconciled before this and now of course it was too late. He could _feel_ Dooku's regret across their Force bond. He also knew Dooku was going to keep up the stiff upper lip for awhile longer, and Dooku was feeling guilt for getting in the way of Fëanor's big moment. Sören knew he could remedy that right now, and used the Force to float the Silmaril off the coffee table, the jewel turning over and over, sparkling little rainbows over them.  
  
"It's beautiful," Dooku said.  
  
"Touch it," Sören said. "It'll be fine. I did make those in honor of you and Arafinwë, after all."  
  
Dooku opened his hand and the Silmaril floated down into his palm. Dooku held it reverently, rubbing his thumb over it, eyes wide with awe.  
  
"I remember when you first showed us," Dooku said, his voice hushed.  
  
Sören nodded. " _See how I love thee._ "  
  
Dooku and Sören looked at each other - looked into each other's eyes - and there were Dooku's dark chocolate eyes, warm and filled with love for his husband, and then Sören saw the blue eyes of Fingolfin, like blue diamonds but even more exquisite... reminiscent of a blue sky with cloud iridescence, a memory of the first taste of freedom Fëanor had outside of Valinor. And Finarfin's hair had reminded Fëanor of the mingled light of Telperion and Laurelin, the sacred "in between" time, one of the wonders of Valinor, one of the things he could never hate about the realm, one of the things he loved, cherished, even as he'd come to hate the realm's strictures, its Laws. Oh, how Fëanor had raged at the destruction of the Trees...  
  
Dooku and Sören kissed, as Fëanor had kissed Fingolfin and Finarfin in turn when the Silmarils were unveiled. Dooku stroked Sören's face and pet his curls with his free hand, as Sören's hand settled on top of the Silmaril in Dooku's hand, the stone throbbing between them. As the kiss deepened, Sören had a mind to drag Dooku down to the bedroom and celebrate the Silmaril's return by claiming something else that was diamond-hard, but he could sense across their Force bond that Dooku was too upset over Qui-Gon's death to be in the mood for that right now. He understood. Their noses rubbed as their lips pulled apart, lingering, breathing each other's breath.  
  
"I put a piece of my soul into these," Sören said, taking the Silmaril now, holding it in both his hands, looking at it with wonder. "Because it was made for the love of you, my brothers... you are my soul. My light."  
  
Dooku closed his eyes and let out a shuddery sigh. The tears began to flow just slightly. Not a big scene, not yet. That dam would break later. But for now, a pressure release. "I love you," Dooku said, the weight of years in his voice.  
  
Sören kissed his cheek, his tears. "I know."  
  
  
_  
  
  
Maglor and Dooku made dinner together while Sören, Frankie and Margrét played video games. Margrét confirmed that they'd be flying out to Reykjavik tomorrow morning, as originally planned, and would be leaving around the same time Sören and Dooku were off to the Dimmuborgir.  
  
Dinner was quiet, a shroud of melancholy hanging over the group between Qui-Gon's death and Kol and Edenel's departure. It felt like things were unraveling, and now Sören was the one who wanted to cry, but kept himself together... for the moment.  
  
After dinner, Maglor performed for everyone on his harp. Several songs in, before Maglor was done, Dooku put an apologetic hand on Maglor's shoulder and departed to the bedroom. Sören let him be for awhile, giving him space, but finally his Force bond with Dooku got the better of him, when Dooku was broadcasting too much distress to be ignored.  
  
Sören found Dooku on the bed in his pajamas, curled up in the fetal position, holding his ancient teddy bear, Winston, a look of raw grief on his face. Huan was on one side of him and Snúdur the other.  
  
Sören quickly got in his own pajamas and climbed on the bed with Dooku, with Huan making some room for Sören. Sören pulled Dooku into his arms and began gently rocking him, a tight lump in his throat.  
  
A few minutes of rocking and the dam started to break. Sören knew that it wouldn't be the only time Dooku would cry about this, and probably not the hardest time, either, but it was a start. "Let it out," Sören said, petting him. "I know it hurts, and you shouldn't keep it inside..."  
  
"My uncle... our father... is gone. One of my children is gone. Whatever the outcome of the Dagorath, it already feels like the world is ending." Dooku closed his haunted eyes, the tears flowing.  
  
"It feels like that," Sören said, nodding, "but _as you know_ , feelings and reality aren't necessarily in agreement. The world hasn't ended yet. I'm still here. And I'm not going anywhere, Nico. I'm not going to leave you." He kissed Dooku's tears.  
  
"You _did_ , once." Dooku was referring back to when they were Fingolfin and Fëanor.  
  
"Jæja, and I was a big stupid poopyhead," Sören said, desperately grabbing for what levity he could. "But you won't lose me again. _I swear it._ " He grabbed Dooku's hand and pressed it to his heart, squeezing it. "I will never just... take off... again. I will never, ever leave you again." Another grasp at levity. "For fuck's sake, I'm going to take the day off to go with you to the wake... and I'm going somewhere that isn't work, willingly, _in the bloody morning_. That should tell you a lot."  
  
Dooku tried to smile, but it didn't meet his eyes, which were too sad. So heartbreakingly sad, bringing tears to Sören's own eyes.  
  
Sören reached out and held Dooku closer, tighter. He rained little kisses over Dooku's face as Dooku shook with silent tears in his arms. "I love you, Nico. I love you. I love you. _You are not alone._ We'll get through this."  
  
Dooku's tears became less silent, and Sören found himself crying as well, even though he'd tried not to. Maglor came in the room. Wordlessly, now it was his turn to get into pajamas and climb in the bed with them, holding the reincarnations of his father and uncle, kissing each of them in turn.  
  
"Hey," Maglor said softly. " _Hey._ "  
  
But now Maglor was crying as well, his empathy overwhelmed by both of them, and his own concern for Edenel, out there.  
  
A little while later, as the three continued to cry, Frankie and Margrét showed up in the room in their pajamas. They used the Force to take the blankets and pillows from the bed that Sören, Dooku and Maglor shared and build a blanket and pillow fort around the bed, at last lifting up a corner of one of the blankets to steal inside and get on the bed with them. The bed was a tight fit for three men of above-average height, never mind being joined by the two women, but they all huddled together, cuddling in a non-sexual way.  
  
"Finwion cuddle pile," Margrét said, snuggling against Sören.  
  
Sören smiled. There was something pure and beautiful about it, in the midst of their sadness - the children of Finwë, and one of the Fëanorions, creating a living shield wall. Safety and warmth, and reinforcing that feeling of being able to take on the world if they put aside whatever differences they had and stood together as one.  
  
And yet, there was a fresh wave of sadness. Here was Sören-Fëanor, Dooku-Fingolfin, Margrét-Findis, and Frankie-Lalwen... only four of the five Finwion siblings. Once again, that ache for Finarfin, now as sharp as a limb freshly cut off. Sören's heart cried, and for a moment he could have sworn the two Silmarils hidden away cried out as well. Sören's eyes met Maglor's, and he knew Maglor could feel that note of pain in the Song.  
  
But Sören didn't even know how to begin looking. He'd tried to scry via the _palantir_ Maglor owned, months ago, when more of his memories from then had started coming back, and the _palantir_ spoke in riddles, showing images to Sören's mind that seemed to have nothing to do with anything, like black swans. It seemed that Sören could call the Silmarils to himself by putting his intent out into the universe but not forcing an outcome, letting the Silmarils hear that call and come in their time, and Sören wondered if it was the same with Finarfin.  
  
In the meantime, that missing limb from their family tree _hurt_ , now more than ever.  
  
And in the meantime, with nothing he could do about the missing one, Sören turned his focus back to the family he did have, surrounding him and Dooku, enfolding them. His tears began to subside, as did Dooku's, as they were held, pet, given shelter in this tangle of pajama-clad bodies within the pillow and blanket fort. For at least a little while, a Finwion cuddle pile seemed like it could cure all manner of ills.  
  
  
_  
  
  
Sören and Dooku almost fell over as they came out at Wayland's Smithy, into rain and fog.  
  
 _I'd almost forgotten how intense that jump is,_ Sören spoke into Dooku's mind via their Force bond. _Kol called it "folding space", but it's more like space is being folded into you, into your goddamn guts -_  
  
"Er," Dooku said aloud. He reflexively brushed himself off, even though they hadn't fallen, only came close to it, and they hadn't gotten anything on themselves in the jump.  
  
Dooku was wearing one of the suits he'd kept from his days working as a barrister at Garden Court Chambers, at Lincoln's Inn Fields in Temple, a smart black pinstripe suit with a white shirt and a deep navy tie. Sören was wearing a charcoal grey suit with a white shirt and grey tie - and his Doc Martens boots - feeling like he was performing some sort of drag badly. Dooku took his arm and popped open the navy umbrella he'd brought, with Sören shaking his head and chuckling that even Dooku's umbrella went with his outfit.  
  
Though Maglor had assumed based on the weather that they would be alone and unseen when they jumped into Wayland's Smithy - not to mention that it was a Monday morning and most people were working or at school - his assumption wasn't quite accurate. Sören's heart skipped a beat, an icy grip on the pit of his stomach as he saw, several meters away, a group of thuggish-looking young white males drinking ale from bottles way too early in the morning, smoking cigarettes. Sören wondered if they'd been spotted. His nose twitched and wrinkled involuntarily at the foul smell of the cigarette smoke.  
  
"Just act like nothing is unusual," Dooku said quietly, and Sören felt Dooku's touch in the Force around them, a thin invisible shield. Across their Force bond, Sören realized Dooku used to do this before certain fraught court cases he took on, when Dooku was a criminal defense barrister and had particularly dangerous clients - or people out for blood and vengeance upon those clients.  
  
The gang of louts was still staring at them as they passed. Dooku made eye contact, razor-sharp, like an eagle seeing its lunch. "Good morning, gentlemen," Dooku said mildly with a nod, continuing to walk past the non-gentlemen, one of whom sneered.  
  
There was a navy blue Volvo waiting for them - Sören recognized the auburn-haired-and-bearded Oberon Canobie in the driver's seat, looking impatient. "Do you think we were spotted?" Sören whispered to Dooku.  
  
"I think it probably doesn't matter if we were or weren't," Dooku said. "You saw them. They'll be distracted soon enough."  
  
Sören supposed Dooku was right, he'd seen plenty of the type in London and they seemed to have short attention spans, an alien could have landed at a pub and if telly showed England scoring a goal they'd ignore the alien completely, and Dooku had pushed with the Force on top of that. He still felt slightly uneasy, worrying about the sneering one in particular. But before he could tell Dooku they might want to turn around and maybe try to plant a Force suggestion in that one's head, they were getting in Obi's car.  
  
"Hello," Obi said as they climbed in.  
  
"Good morning, Obi," Dooku said. "How are you holding up?"  
  
A thin, bitter smile. "Don't ask."  
  
They drove into London in silence. It was painfully awkward, and Sören was almost regretting insisting on coming along, but every now and again he stole glances at Dooku in the back seat, via the mirror in the front, and the pain in Dooku's face - the pain he _felt_ , across their bond - reminded him he had to do this.  
  
The wake was small, and less formal than Sören had been expecting, and probably quite a bit less formal than Dooku himself had been expecting. Though Obi himself was in a black suit and tie, and everyone was dressed in suits - including Leja, who Sören spied out of the corner of his eye - the ceremony was loosely structured, people getting up to say a few words about Qui. Sören wondered if Dooku was going to say anything, but as the service wore on he realized Dooku couldn't bring himself to get up and make any kind of speech - Dooku, the master of monologues, who had once been a great courtroom manipulator. It hurt _that_ much.  
  
At the end there was a viewing of the body, people getting in a queue. Dooku had already told Sören that Qui was in fact " _dead_ dead", this wasn't a faked death, but seeing the body absolutely confirmed it, and Sören found himself gasping and swearing in Icelandic at the sight, even as Qui - in a dark blue suit and tie, which Sören swore Qui would have never voluntarily worn in his life, hands clasped on his chest as if in prayer - looked absolutely serene, like his heart attack had taken him quickly, mercifully. Sören backed away from the corpse as fast as he could, making a beeline for the table of refreshments, distracting himself from the sick feeling he had by pouring himself punch, feeling shaken. Out of the corner of his eye he watched Dooku lingering at the body, as if Dooku was expressing something to Qui-Gon's spirit via the Force that he couldn't put into words.  
  
"Are you all right, dear?" came a deep female voice, Londoner, well-bred.  
  
"Jæja, I'm... I'm fine, _takk._ " Sören had a sip of punch and watched the woman the voice belonged to, almost as tall as he was, with steel-grey hair in a pixie cut, watchful green eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses, a slim and elegant figure in a deep navy pantsuit. She was more handsome than pretty, but could have been a model when she was younger.  
  
The woman nodded. "I hate going to these things, and I hate it even more when I know the person who died isn't stuffy and wouldn't approve of being 'honored' this way." She made air quotes. Her nostrils flared and then she gave Sören a small, wry smile as she went on, "I told my son that when I die - mind you, that shouldn't be for some time yet - I want a New Orleans style jazz funeral, none of... this nonsense. Remember my life as I lived it, with heart."  
  
Sören instantly liked her. He also felt a weird prickle at the back of his neck that he couldn't explain. He raised his punch glass. "I can see why you and Qui got on."  
  
"We were neighbors," the woman said, "not the best of friends - good fences make good neighbors, as they say, it doesn't do to get too wrapped up in each other's space, but for what it was, I was fond of him. And he was a dear when my poor ragdoll cat had to be put down." She frowned.  
  
Sören watched as Leja took Dooku aside for a moment, the first conversation those two were having in months. He had to do a double-take, almost not recognizing Leja at first, who looked alarmingly thin and was wearing a large floppy hat, and Leja never wore hats, not even at formal events.  
  
"You came a long way for this, hm?" The woman tilted her head to one side.  
  
Sören gave a small nod. "Iceland."  
  
"He must have been important to you." The woman put a comforting hand on his arm. "I'm sorry for your loss."  
  
" _Takk,_ " Sören said, his voice husky with emotion. And that kind, compassionate touch from a stranger, the knowing eyes, made Sören start to blubber, even as he hadn't been that close to Qui-Gon, more fondness from a distance, sort of like an adult stepson. Sören cringed, self-conscious about starting to cry in public. "Oh god, I'm so sorry," he said, wrenching away from her grip.  
  
The woman put her arms around him, giving a tight hug. "It's all right, dear. People shouldn't be robots when they grieve the ones that mattered to them."  
  
Sören grieved Qui more for Dooku than himself, but he would miss Qui nonetheless - and he was grieving all the everything, right now.  
  
The woman offered him a handkerchief, which looked suspiciously similar to the handkerchief Dooku offered at their first meeting in 2017. Sören hesitated, and the woman began dabbing at Sören's face.  
  
"My maternal instinct kicks in," she said. "How old are you, dear?"  
  
"Thirty-five, will be thirty-six soon." _Not that it matters anymore._  
  
"So just a little younger than my son." She dabbed some more at Sören's face. Then she took Sören's face in her hands and she said, her voice firm and commanding, "You are going to be OK. I know it may not seem like that right now, with your friend gone, but I _promise_ you, life keeps going on, and all we can do is keep moving with it. We can be pulled into the undertow, or we can swim like sharks." Another wry smile. She patted Sören's shoulder.  
  
Then Dooku came over, glancing at the woman and then at Sören. Seeming to intuitively understand the need for Dooku to interrupt, the woman nodded at Sören with a tight smile and stepped aside and began walking away.  
  
"You talked to Leja," Sören said matter-of-factly.  
  
"I did," Dooku said. He watched Obi at Qui-Gon's coffin now. Leja was already heading out of the building. He took Sören's hands in his and he said softly, "She has cancer."  
  
"Oh. Well I mean, when you say she has cancer... prognosis?"  
  
"Not good." Dooku pursed his lips. "Matter of weeks." _She's still not taking the blood._  
  
Sören threw his arms around Dooku and hugged him tight, fierce, almost angry in his need to shelter, protect. _First Argon, now Aredhel?_ "Oh god, Nico, I'm so sorry..."  
  
"So am I," Dooku said, holding Sören too, leaning on him. He gave a deep sigh.  
  
Even though they were out in public and Dooku was still somewhat reserved about certain displays of affection in public, Sören stroked Dooku's face, pet and skritched his beard. "I love you," Sören husked.  
  
"I know." Dooku took Sören's hand and kissed it. "I love you too."  
  
Obi finally came over. "Would you like to come over for tea?"  
  
Dooku and Sören looked at each other, then Dooku nodded and Sören did too.  
  
Obi and Qui-Gon had shared a place together in Blackheath, a cozy little gingerbread house that Sören half-expected to find populated by a crone baking children. There were neatly manicured rose bushes outside, climbing roses on the roof, and shrubbery around the parameter of the house. It had been a long time since Sören had been inside their place, but he remembered there seemed to be just as many plants inside - Qui-Gon was a bonsai enthusiast and there had been hanging plants, safely out of the reach of their five cats.  
  
Sören was shocked when he got inside their house and found boxes, boxes everywhere. The couch was still there, for now, but other furniture was pushed off to the side, on its way out. There were none of Qui-Gon's plants left. There were, however, the cats. A smoke point Siamese with bright blue eyes came right up to Sören with a "Prrrp?"  
  
"Oh yes, I think I remember you," Sören said, stooping to pet the cat, "but you have so many brothers and sisters I forget your name -"  
  
"That's Theo," Obi said. "Please, sit down."  
  
Obi put on tea and when it was ready he came out, taking a desk chair that didn't really belong where it was, across the coffee table in front of the couch.  
  
"So you're leaving," Dooku said.  
  
"In about a fortnight, yes," Obi said.  
  
"Where are you going to go?"  
  
"Arizona, for starters." Obi shrugged. "I need... solitude, for awhile. Space to grieve. The desert is a good place for that."  
  
"Fair," Dooku said.  
  
"Actually, that's..." Obi gave a small, sad smile. "That's why I invited you over. _As you know..._ " Even in grief, he couldn't resist taking the potshot; Sören bit back a grin. "Qui and I had five cats. They were like our children."  
  
"You say 'had', past tense, but they're around," Dooku said, gesturing to the other four cats who had come out to see the visitors. A large orange tabby promptly hopped up onto the couch and climbed on Dooku's lap, sniffing Dooku and Sören, who began to pet.  
  
"Moving animals anywhere is difficult, moving them cross-country is... well... quite a challenge indeed," Obi said. "I can take exactly two of the five cats. I'm taking Victor," he said, gesturing to a black cat batting a toy mouse around by the fireplace, "and Francesca." He pointed to a long-haired calico hopping onto a windowsill to watch the rain. "I need to rehome the other three, and I know that Qui would have wanted you to take at least one."  
  
"Would he." Dooku's eyebrow shot up at that and he sipped his tea.  
  
"Whatever he thought of you in the end - and he never hated you, Dooku, you know that - he knows how much of a cat person you are. You both are," Obi quickly added, glancing at Sören.  
  
Dooku and Sören looked at each other. Then a silver Norwegian Forest Cat who looked for all the world like Dooku's late cat Dragos got on the couch and climbed on Sören.  
  
"That's Rasputin," Obi said with a smirk. "He's about a year old, we got him after Jules passed on late last year."  
  
"I'm sorry. I had no idea about Jules -" Dooku frowned.  
  
"I know," Obi said.  
  
"Rasputin, eh?" Sören felt a twinge, remembering how Boney M.'s "Rasputin" became his ringtone for Vanimórë when he'd been visiting in summer 2019, when Sören - incorrectly - thought Van was Russian. He began to sing, " _Ra-Ra-Rasputin, lover of the Russian queen, there was a cat that really was gone..._ "  
  
Dooku reached out to pet Rasputin, with his other hand stroking the orange cat on his lap, and Sören noticed from what he could see of Dooku's wrist as his hand moved that he had gooseflesh, as if Dooku had the same frisson about Rasputin - he'd been in on the joke, much as it made him roll his eyes - and was very well aware that Rasputin was the spitting image of the cat he'd lost to renal failure in spring 2018. _Maybe Huan isn't the only reincarnated four-legged friend around,_ Sören thought to himself.  
  
"I think we've been claimed," Dooku said, looking at Sören, who nodded. Then Dooku looked at Obi. "What about... er..."  
  
"Theo?" Obi glanced down at the Siamese, who was rubbing around his ankles as if to say, " _What about me?_ " "Well," Obi said, "I was thinking of giving a cat to Elaine, my neighbor - Qui would have wanted that, too. Actually, if you don't mind, you can come with me while I bring the cat over to Elaine's, and then I can drive you to the airport -"  
  
"You've already done enough driving," Dooku said, and Sören knew that even though Obi was Force-sensitive and well aware of the weirdness going on with Maglor and having two immortals sit in front of him, Dooku still didn't want to disclose how they'd gotten there. "I'll call a taxi. But we'll go with you to drop off the other cat. I assume you have cat carriers, because we don't, we weren't expecting -"  
  
"I do," Obi said. "I'll bring you back here to fetch the carriers and the cats before you head off."  
  
"What's his name?" Sören asked, petting the orange tabby.  
  
"She. Pumpkin," Obi said.  
  
"D'aawwww."  
  
Sören would normally be a bit weirded out by the prospect of going to a total stranger's house, and wouldn't have expected a neighbor in a posh, well-to-do neighborhood like this to be at home on a Monday afternoon instead of working. But, with Dooku beside him, under the umbrella, Obi led the way two houses down, Theo howling in the cat carrier.  
  
"I need reinforcement to do this," Obi explained to them sotto voce. "This hasn't been an easy decision..."  
  
Now Sören understood a little better. Whatever bitterness he could have felt towards Obi for enabling the distance with Qui, and not telling Dooku about the heart attack until just before the wake, was fading now, replaced with compassion.  
  
If Qui-Gon and Obi lived in a gingerbread house, their neighbor Elaine lived in something straight out of _Upstairs, Downstairs_ or _Mary Poppins_. Sören fought off a giggle at how Very British this whole experience was, like suddenly his life had become a Victorian novel for an afternoon. And then the humor rolled away when he felt that prickle at the back of his neck again and the weird _I know this place, somehow_ feeling. The last time he'd felt this way had been when he was in St. Andrews, Scotland, a year ago.  
  
 _The fuck is this._  
  
The door opened and there was the woman Sören had interacted with at the wake. "Obi," she said, warmly, making a sweeping "come in" gesture. "I see you've brought friends." Her eyes met Sören's.  
  
"This is Sören, and Nicolae," Obi said. Then Obi raised the carrier. "And this is Theo." His voice lowered as he said, "You know I'm leaving for the States, soon. I wanted to ask if you'd -"  
  
Elaine nodded. "I'd been contemplating getting a new cat after Alonzo passed on..."  
  
Sören's eyes lit up. "Alonzo. After one of the Jellicle Cats?"  
  
" _Yes._ You know the one." Elaine looked delighted that Sören got the reference. Then she opened Theo's cat carrier herself and pulled out the Siamese. "Oh, what a precious boy." Theo began to purr loudly.  
  
Sören felt that prickle at the back of his neck. It wasn't just that he knew this house somehow, he knew _her_. He tried to get a lock on it but it was fuzzy, probably through the noise of Dooku's grief and his own pain, a caution about seeing too much with the Dagorath on its way.  
  
And this house. Dooku and Sören looked around. "This is a _lovely_ place," Dooku said. Sören nodded. There was a sweeping white staircase, and dark wood floors. The ceiling was high, with a chandelier. Plaster flowers along the top of the walls, the walls done in grey paint. There were large windows seemingly everywhere, filling the house with light. Metalwork sculptures and wall hangings, abstract art on the walls. Through some of the windows Sören saw a walled garden outside, shrubbery, vines, and pots.  
  
"I restored and redesigned it," Elaine said. "My son was about four when I bought this place. I'm an architect by trade and have a large portfolio to be proud of, but this... this is my pride and joy. My castle."  
  
"It's gorgeous," Sören said, his voice hushed.  
  
"Let me show you the garden while Theo does some exploring," Elaine said, and gestured for Sören and Dooku and Obi to follow.  
  
Sören's breath caught at the lavender, wisteria, clematis, sage, chives, creeping roses, the trellises. The faded grey brick walls seemed to thrum with the energy of the Living Force in this place, the plants happy and well-loved.  
  
"This was my late husband Roger's sanctuary," Elaine said. "Enough so that he asked to have some of his ashes scattered here, when he went. I have some and our son has the rest... but he's a part of the garden he loved, now. I don't have the green thumb he did, but my son does - he's got rather a gift - so when he's around the garden is his baby."  
  
Sören walked around, feeling like he was in a dream. Then, as his back turned to the others for a moment, a few meters away, he felt that prickle at the back of his neck again but now there was a chill down his entire spine, hair standing on end, breaking out in gooseflesh under his suit. The rain had stopped and the sunlight was starting to break through clouds, casting a golden tint to the air, and he felt something silver-gold brush his mind. A deep female voice spoke into his mind: _Uncle._  
  
In his mind's eye Sören saw Galadriel looking into her mirror, clad in white, glowing as brightly as Maglor and Edenel did unglamoured.  
  
When Dag's daughters were born back in March and Sören had visited him in Canada for the birth, Dag had casually mentioned that Galadriel had "poked" him a couple of times, and she did it again when his daughters were born. This, however, was the first time Galadriel had reached out to Sören himself, that he was aware of.  
  
 _Hello,_ Sören spoke back to her mind.  
  
Galadriel looked pensive. She closed her eyes. _The days grow dark, Fëanáro._  
  
 _So you feel it too, then. The coming war._  
  
Galadriel's eyes opened. _Yes. Whatever it is, no world shall be the same._  
  
 _I am afraid._ Sören hated admitting that, but there it was.  
  
 _Have courage, Uncle._ A pause. _Have fire. Take hold of the Flame and do not let go. For you are the light of all worlds._  
  
Sören didn't know what to say to that, and Galadriel's presence lingered in his mind, as if she was waiting for him to say something, anything. He looked around the garden again and at last he went out on a limb - if the _palantir_ wouldn't give him a straight answer, maybe she would.  
  
 _Artanis._ Sören closed his eyes, to lock onto her energy more fully. _Where is your father._  
  
A wind stirred. _Closer than you think._  
  
The connection broke after that, like a phone being hung up. Though it wasn't a straight answer of any kind, Sören was still rocked enough by it - by all of it - that the rest of the visit with Obi's neighbor Elaine passed by in a haze. When they got back to Obi's house, Obi went to the bathroom and Dooku used the opportunity to call a taxi, explaining they were going to Wayland's Smithy. "Yes, I know that will be expensive," Dooku huffed, rolling his eyes.  
  
When they waited outside for the cab, Sören's mind replayed the conversation with Galadriel for seemingly the fiftieth time. He got the distinct sense that Elaine, though she felt familiar, was not his niece reborn, and that his niece hadn't been reborn - Galadriel was poking at him from Valinor, or perhaps someplace else entirely, maybe that Timeless Halls that Van, Kol and Edenel had mentioned before. As far as "closer than you think" with Finarfin, he didn't sense it was the ashes of the deceased in the garden, as strong as that place had felt in the Living Force. And it wasn't Obi, or that would have come out at Margrét and Frankie's wedding when all the other revelations were happening, like Qui-Gon as Argon - Vanimórë had in fact stated outright that Obi was Elven-blooded, but not an Elf reborn.  
  
So what did "closer than you think" mean? Sören wanted to scream with frustration.  
  
He held that thought as the cab came. Dooku got in the back with the two cat carriers, Sören in the front passenger's seat. Their driver was Sikh, and polite, asking if the temperature was comfortable, if they wanted to listen to anything on the way there. Dooku and Sören opted to let their driver listen to what he wanted, and he put on classical music, which Dooku smiled at in approval.  
  
Just as they passed Elaine's house, close to being out of the neighborhood, Sören heard a bass thumping, and his eyes followed the direction of the music. A charcoal grey Audi A7 was turning into the street, and Sören's lips quirked with amusement at the familiar sound of Jamiroquai.  
  
 _You make me love you, love you baby  
With a little L  
Why does it have to be like this  
I can never tell_  
  
As the Audi passed by their cab on the other side, Sören once again felt a prickle at the back of his neck, this time in combination with another round of his hair standing on end, a feeling that he _knew_ that car the way he knew Elaine and knew that house. He also felt the presence of the Force - just for a few seconds, like the volume on the Force energy present between himself and Dooku at any given time was turned up, and then deliberately muted, as if Sören feeling it caused it to go off.  
  
Sören wondered about that, and then he found himself getting distracted, for some reason compelled to look out the window at Blackheath Station, coming up, a reminder of the days when he'd lived in London and used to take the Tube on a regular basis, though he'd rarely had occasion to go into Blackheath.  
  
Sören felt a little dazed, which he chalked up to having to go out in the morning, and a portal jump, and all the everything all day, all of yesterday, but not so dazed that he didn't notice the Audi tearing out of the neighborhood as if it had turned around as fast as it had gone in. He wondered what that was about just before a yawn hit him and he gave a sleepy blink, leaning back in his chair and letting the classical music on the radio lull him into a half-asleep state.  
  
He woke up a bit when they had been on the highway for awhile. Dooku was sweet-talking the cats in their carriers to keep them calm for the road. No more familiar cars... and then, in the mirror on his side of the car, another grey Audi, or perhaps the same one, two cars behind.  
  
 _Well, that's weird, but then, probably not the most unique car in the world._ Sören decided to poke Dooku across their Force bond. _Nico, did you... get a message when we were in the garden?_  
  
 _No,_ Dooku spoke back into his mind. _You?_  
  
 _Yeah. Galadriel,_ Sören said.  
  
 _I see._  
  
 _Apparently she feels it too, whatever's coming,_ Sören said. _Which is... concerning._  
  
Sören started to doze off again, until their driver informed them, "Just a few more minutes, OK?"  
  
Sören nodded. He blinked his eyes open and then he saw the Audi right on their ass in the passenger's side mirror.  
  
 _We're being followed._  
  
 _Keep calm,_ Dooku spoke into Sören's mind.  
  
The Audi turned off suddenly, as if they somehow caught on to what was happening, or perhaps they really weren't being followed and that was just a coincidence, and they arrived at Wayland's Smithy without a tail. When Dooku and Sören got out of the cab, Dooku paid their fare and left a very generous tip, which the driver tried to argue about, "no no no, is too much," and Dooku gave him a stern look, not taking no for an answer. Finally Sören grabbed Dooku's arm, and the driver called out to them, "Thank you so much! Have a wonderful day!"  
  
Sören and Dooku were each carrying a cat carrier. As they got closer to the megalith, saw a different group of louts than had been there this morning - but there was the one who had sneered from the first group, as if he'd brought a second group of friends. Once again Sören's panic button went off, and he wanted to kick himself for not saying something to Dooku. And he could see it on Dooku's face, the look of surprise and concern, as if in his haze of grief Dooku's usual watchful, suspicious nature had relaxed a little too much.  
  
 _Keep walking,_ Dooku spoke into Sören's mind.  
  
"Hey," said the guy from earlier. "Where you two off to?" And then a pause, and another sneer. "Where you two _come from_?"  
  
 _Don't answer him. Don't look at him._ Now it was Dooku grabbing Sören's arm, marching him on ahead, past the young men.  
  
Sören heard the purr of an engine, like a car had just rolled up. He thought about looking over his shoulder but he took Dooku's caution to heart, that looking at the car would also mean looking at the thugs. Then the guy hollered, "HEY! I ASKED YOU A FUCKIN' QUESTION!"  
  
Dooku and Sören were high-tailing it now, not quite breaking into a run, but almost there, trying to get to the chamber. Sören heard a car door open and he felt Dooku's Force energy rising, coiling, about to strike if things escalated. The chamber was starting to glow faintly and thrum, as if it sensed them coming and was warming up. A rock struck Sören in the shoulder and he whirled around, his arm tingling, his hand hot, and he saw the guy who yelled at him - ready to throw another rock, this one larger - suddenly trip and fall on the ground, just as Dooku shoved Sören into the chamber.  
  
Everything went white; with their free arms, Dooku and Sören grabbed onto each other for dear life. Falling falling falling flying...  
  
  
_  
  
  
When they arrived at the Dimmuborgir, Dooku called Maglor, letting him know they were back and needed a ride.  
  
As they sat at the Dimmuborgir and waited for their pickup, Sören asked Dooku, "Uh, when we were, you know, at Wayland's Smithy and that guy started throwing rocks..." He tilted his head. "Did you..."  
  
Their eyes met. "No. I did not."  
  
 _Did I do that? Without thinking about it?_ It wouldn't have been the first time Sören used the Force without thinking, but usually he was more careful than that, even when his anxiety was running high - otherwise Justin Roberts would have died years ago.  
  
 _Not that it was necessarily the Force, either. Could be that guy just tripped. He was pretty drunk, after all._  
  
Sören tried to not dwell on it too much and focus on comforting the cats, who were once again unhappy about being cooped up, and he couldn't imagine what the jump through the Portal had been like for them. As it was Sören still felt a little sick to his stomach.  
  
When Maglor's jeep rolled up, Sören was never so relieved to see him. Maglor gave them an incredulous look when they got in the car with the cat carriers. "I thought you were going to a wake," Maglor said.  
  
"We did. Obi needed to rehome some of their cats because he's moving," Sören said.  
  
Maglor's lips quirked with amusement. "This is three cats we'll have now, and I assume you're going to want to give the blood to the cats when we get in..."  
  
"That would be the plan, yes," Dooku said, and Sören twinged, knowing Dooku didn't want to go through the trauma of losing another cat, especially not now after everything.  
  
"It doesn't bother you that we seem to be creating an army of immortal felines here," Maglor said, raising an eyebrow.  
  
"Sounds just like what the world needs," Sören said. "Get us home, I have to piss like a fucking racehorse."  
  
Maglor facepalmed, chuckling, and then he gave Sören a mock salute. "Aye, Captain."  
  
"Warp six," Sören said, as Maglor began pulling out of the Dimmuborgir. "Engage."  
  
A few minutes onto the road, Sören's cell phone went off. He thought about ignoring it, because any movement seemed to exacerbate his urge to pee and he really didn't want to ask Maglor to pull over so he could go on the side of the road. But then he got a nagging sense that he should, in fact, answer his phone. When he used the Force to slide the phone out of his pocket, his eyes widened with alarm when he saw Charlie Audley's number on the screen.  
  
Sören swiped to accept. "Hey."  
  
"I'm going to say this to you _once_ , Sigurdsson." She knew that was a patronymic and not a surname and she only called him that when she was _really_ annoyed with him and wanted to annoy him in return - which, thankfully, hadn't been often. Much. " _Don't you FUCKING do that again._ "  
  
"Do what?" Sören asked.  
  
"You know perfectly damn well what. You were in London today."  
  
 _Oh shit._ "...Er."  
  
"One of my flying monkeys -" That was her code word for MI6 operatives, when on the phone in these types of discussions. "- had to contain a situation. Which was not really something he was bargaining on having to do today, so now I've got an earful from him, which means you're getting an earful from me. The next time you want to go galavanting around the gates or whatever you lot are calling them -"  
  
"So how do you even know about that? Did Van tell you?"  
  
"We've had people look at things, including the gentleman who just screamed at me for the last fifteen minutes. It's not something I particularly care to discuss over the phone because unlike _some fucking people_ I understand the concept of discretion. _So._ As I was _saying_ , Sigurdsson, the next time you want to do THAT, you fucking bloody tell me first, that you're going somewhere, so I can get a crew in to monitor if you're coming out someplace with traffic. This isn't going to happen again, or I'm going to have no choice but to get you lot a babysitter and I don't think you want to be kept on so tight a leash, do you?"  
  
Sören swallowed hard. "No ma'am." _Even if I normally like being on a leash._  
  
"All right then." _Click._  
  
Sören took a few deep breaths. "That was Charlie."  
  
"I rather got that sense," Dooku said. "How much trouble are we in?"  
  
"Well... we're always in trouble. We are trouble, period. But jæja, she's pretty pissed right now."  
  
Despite all of the non-normal activity of most of their day, and their weekend, things quickly returned to something resembling their "usual" routine in the evening, with Dooku and Maglor making dinner, and then Maglor improvising on the harp while Sören worked on a sketch. He found himself sketching Galadriel, and then in Sören's mind's eye he could see Maglor's own mental images as he played, remembering Elrond, Elros.  
  
Remembering war. Remembering what it felt like. How each war had changed him. Feeling weary into his bones that war was upon them again.  
  
Sören, Maglor and Dooku ended up just holding each other that night, curled up with their cats and dog, wrapped up tight in blankets. The three cried some more, for awhile, until they were all cried out and all they could do was ache, exhausted but not yet ready for sleep, laying quietly in the mutual horror of their loss, and what was potentially around the corner.  
  
 _Tears unnumbered ye shall shed._ There had already been so many tears, and here they were sailing down that river to yet more grief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, for those of you following along with other 'verses, it's [that Elaine](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21416557) and [that house](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21470083).


	8. Desafinado

**Desafinado**

  
  
  
Sören and Maglor went to Logifugl Listaskóli as usual on Tuesday, as if nothing had happened over the weekend or Monday. Sören felt guilty about the classes he'd cancelled to attend to the "family emergency", and he was hoping that getting back to his normal routine, providing a space for the artistically-inclined of Akureyri to try their hand at different mediums for an affordable price, would snap him out of the funk that had fallen on him. Usually, being around so many people creating - and taking joy in the act of creation, having fun with it - was deeply nourishing to him, at times downright intoxicating, the richest of food and wine to offer to the Flame Imperishable. But Tuesday dragged on, and Sören found himself wanting the day to be over hours before his day was actually over.  
  
As Sören spent the evening at home with his bondmates, cats and dog, sketching, he chalked it up to being the day after Qui's wake. _I'll probably be fine tomorrow._  
  
But then Wednesday was much the same way, if not somewhat worse than Tuesday. Sören desperately did not want to be there, and his students seemed to understand something was very wrong, the classes more quiet than usual, less enthusiasm, as if the storm cloud hanging over Sören's head now was affecting everyone else.  
  
Sören had a headache on the morning of Thursday, October first. This in and of itself was somewhat disturbing - ever since taking Vanimórë's blood, Sören no longer had asthma, and he no longer experienced human ailments like cold or flu. He knew from experience with the hangover he'd had over the weekend that there were limits to pushing his body, but he tended to not get headaches on their own anymore. He made himself go to classes anyway, and by the time afternoon break rolled around and he and Maglor had lunch together, Sören's headache was gone. But as it rained outside, Sören thought of Kol and Edenel leaving in the rain, and he desperately wanted to be anywhere but there. He tried to pull himself together in the bathroom, taking deep breaths, splashing cold water on his face, running cold water over his hands. He tried to put on a brave face for his afternoon class, "fake it till you make it" false cheer.  
  
And then, as he heard Maglor's piano across the hall, Maglor playing "Moonlight Sonata" for his students, Sören began to cry. He tried to contain it, but silent tears gave way to loud, messy ones, falling apart in front of his students, who just watched in horror.  
  
Maglor played "Moonlight Sonata" for the full nearly ten minutes, as Sören sobbed and couldn't even make words to answer his students' inquiries as to whether or not they were OK, and when the song was done, Maglor closed the door to his classroom for a minute - Sören could hear his voice, but it was muffled and he couldn't make out words, it only sounded like it was important. Then a few minutes later he opened the door to his classroom, his students began to leave, and he strode across the hall into Sören's classroom and told everyone, "All right, class is dismissed for the day. If anyone wants a partial refund for their time please e-mail me and I'll set everything up." He put a hand on Sören's shoulder, and Sören gave him a look, not wanting to be coddled - until he started sobbing again, and Maglor just pulled Sören against him, petting and rocking him as the students began to file out.  
  
When it was just them in the classroom Sören glared again, through his tears. "You didn't have to do that."  
  
"Yes, I did." Maglor folded his arms.   
  
Sören pinched the bridge of his nose. "You shouldn't have done that. That wasn't professional."  
  
"Neither was having a breakdown in front of your students." Then, before Sören could protest, Maglor pet Sören's curls, stroked his face, looking into his eyes, and he said, "Look, I'm sorry to say that - I'm sorry to go there. For what it's worth, I don't think any less of you for crying like this, and the chances are good most of your students don't either. But you were - are - too much of a wreck to finish the class today. Truth be told, I should have heeded my gut instinct on Tuesday to tell you to just take the damn week off."  
  
"I wouldn't have listened." Sören pursed his lips.  
  
"No, probably not." Maglor muttered under his breath, "You never listen, Fëanáro." Then Maglor said, "But now, you're going to listen to me, for your own good, and the good of your students. I'm not going to apologize to you for sending your students home, and taking you home now, and you're going to take tomorrow off, too."  
  
"But -"  
  
"No buts." Maglor glared back at Sören. "It isn't like we can't afford the refund, with Vanimórë having set us up like he did."  
  
"It's not the money I'm worried about. I don't want to be flaky and disappoint everyone -"  
  
"You told everyone yourself when you canceled classes on Monday there was a 'family emergency', which isn't entirely a lie. These things happen, shit happens, it can't be helped, and people need to be able to accept that. I know you don't like letting people down, Ada." Maglor pulled Sören into another fierce, tight hug. "I know that you want to do right by others. But right now, you have to take care of yourself. You can't help anyone else if you're falling apart. You need some time to just... decompress from everything."  
  
Sören started sobbing again. He hated that Maglor was right. And after a few minutes of ugly, messy crying, he confessed the heart of the matter: "I feel so weak. Like I should be stronger." A few shuddery gasps. "You know, I've tried so hard to not internalize that toxic masculinity crap, but Einar drilled it into my head so much..."  
  
"I know, Ada." Maglor pet Sören's curls, skritched his beard, rubbed his back. "You're not weak. You have a heart, and right now it is in pain for the ones you love. Einar didn't understand that because he had no heart. Had no soul." Maglor gave a derisive snort. "Orc."  
  
Maglor held Sören a few minutes longer, and then he pulled back and jangled the keys to the jeep. "We should get going."  
  
"I insist on putting things away first. I know you'll say it can wait, but it'll nag at me till it gets done. And I need to water the plants."  
  
"OK." Maglor nodded. "I'll help."  
  
They spent the next while putting away Sören's art supplies, and watering the plants that Sören kept around the building, and that seemed to ground Sören enough to make him stop crying, though he was still shaken. When Sören turned off the lights, switched the sign on the door to say _lokað_ instead of _opið_ , and locked the door, it felt like such an act of defeat that it set him off crying again.  
  
Dooku wasn't there when they got home - he left a note saying he went grocery shopping, which wasn't unusual for him at this time of day. Maglor pulled Sören onto the couch with him for cuddles and they were promptly joined by Snuður, Rasputin, Pumpkin and Huan. When Dooku came back from the store that was how he found them, and gave a fond smile as he used the Force to bring the bags in that he didn't have enough hands to carry.  
  
"Precious," Dooku said.  
  
Sören desperately grasped at levity. "My precious, yessss..."  
  
Maglor gave him a little swat. "Do you want some help putting things away, Nicolae?"  
  
"I've got this," Dooku said, "but some help making dinner would be good." He gave Sören a pointed look. "I sensed in the Force you were rather upset -"  
  
Sören facepalmed. It was one thing for his students to see him cry and go from having a happy time creating to being worried and a little upset themselves, it was another thing for Dooku - who'd been through a lot the past several days himself - to _feel_ the empathic blowback. "Of course. I'm sorry -"  
  
"No need to apologize. Anyway, we're having _paella_ tonight, since I know that's one of your favorite things."  
  
Sören managed a weak smile at that. Maglor skritched Sören's beard and kissed his brow. "I'd be happy to help," Maglor said. " _As you know_ , I loved making _paella_ for Sören years ago..."  
  
Remembering the nearly-five years they'd lived together in Reykjavik, when Maglor was posing as a Brazilian named Alejandro Magalhães - an identity he still maintained to the outside world - gave Sören a feeling of nostalgia. As complicated as "Alejandro" had been, as many secrets as he'd been keeping, things were also simpler then, before Sören had ever gotten caught up in the mystery of who Maglor was, and who and what Sören had once been, and finding out he was not only cursed by the Valar, but the Aesir had it in for him as well. In those days, Sören didn't even know of the prophecy of the Dagor Dagorath.   
  
As Maglor got up to help Dooku in the kitchen, that flood of memories hit him now, when Sören and "Alejandro" had simply created a little nest for themselves in a penthouse flat in Reykjavik, spending most of their time creating together or making love, one fueling the other, and it had been beautiful. They had traveled together, their last vacation being to Rio de Janeiro itself, when Sören thought it was "Alejandro"'s home - and Maglor had said, years later, that in a way he wasn't lying, it was the home of his heart, a great lover of Brazilian culture, music and food, the beauty and sensuality of the Brazilian people. Sören loved Maglor, the Elf, but he still loved "Alejandro", the first great love of his life - his first great heartbreak. Since Maglor had revealed himself, and since many other things had been revealed in its wake, Maglor had only "put it on" outside the privacy of family-only spaces, and Sören didn't want Maglor to put on an act if he wasn't comfortable with that. Yet, Sören missed those days when Maglor called him _meu coração_ and other endearments, when Maglor played songs by João Gilberto on his acoustic guitar and sang in Portuguese and, when not playing old-school goth music like The Cure and Depeche Mode and Cocteau Twins, would put on bossa nova and dance with him around their flat.  
  
Sören felt the tears brimming again, and he attempted to distract himself by taking out his father's journal. That turned out to be exactly the worst thing to do right now - reading about his father's final months, recording dreams and visions where he was being threatened and attacked by Odin, waking-day disturbances with accidents that he just barely missed - was harrowing. He could only get a few pages in before he had to close the journal and buried his face in his hands, screaming internally at the horror his father had experienced, and he knew it was going to get so much worse as he read through to the end, to those last days before the coroner said he had "a stroke", a healthy man all of twenty-nine years old when he died.  
  
Sören picked at his dinner, even though he'd been looking forward to it. Dooku finally pulled Sören onto his lap and put a forkful in his mouth. "Here, Daddy will feed you," Dooku said. That seemed to help, and Sören was able to finish his food with Dooku feeding him, even playing "airplane" for a few bites. And after dinner, Sören continued snuggling Dooku on his lap, held safe in his strong arms, the closest thing to a father he'd known in this life other than Edenel.  
  
When Maglor was done with the dishes - usually Sören did it when others cooked, but Maglor insisted Sören take a break tonight - Maglor stood in the doorframe between the kitchen and living room and asked, "Sören, have you made the announcement yet on the website that the studio will be closed tomorrow?"  
  
Sören made noises.  
  
Maglor put a hand on his hip. "I could do it if you want -"  
  
"No, I..." Sören scowled. "I need to... be responsible." He let out a deep sigh and used the Force to pull over his laptop. Dooku's arms tightened around him as Sören typed up the announcement that due to "unforeseen complications from the recent family emergency", there would be no classes tomorrow. Once he posted it to the announcements page on the website, he also copypasted it into a e-mail sent to his students.  
  
"Sweetheart," Dooku said, kissing Sören's cheek, "you did the right thing. Macalaurë told me how upset you were. I could feel it, of course, but..."  
  
"I hate this," Sören said.  
  
"We all hate this," Dooku said. "As you know, this is affecting all of us. But we do what we have to do to get through it." He patted Sören's head, and tousled his curls. "Speaking of which, I think I shall head to the gym for a couple hours and work off some of my own... feeling out of sorts."  
  
" _Desafinado_ ," Maglor said, as Sören climbed off Dooku's lap.  
  
"Despacito?" Sören couldn't resist trolling, his default coping mechanism.  
  
" _Desafinado_ ," Maglor insisted, giving Sören a look. "Out of tune... off key."  
  
"Yes." Dooku nodded. "That sums it up rather well. None of us have been 'right' since Edenel came with the news. And then there's been Qui's death to contend with..." Dooku frowned and looked out the window, not at anything in particular, but as if he were looking far away. Across their bond Sören could see Dooku's memories of Qui, their friendship, and Fingolfin's memories of Argon, starting from when Argon was a small child. Sören ached for him.  
  
"Are you sure you want to go the gym?" Sören raised an eyebrow. "We could watch a chick flick, eat ice cream, cry..."  
  
"I need to feel like I'm doing something productive instead of being... trapped in limbo," Dooku said. "And frankly, so do you." Dooku narrowed his eyes at Sören. "I agree with Macalaurë that you should take tomorrow off. But I also know that's a blow to your pride. So you should find something to do."  
  
Dooku got changed for the gym, and after giving Maglor and Sören both a hug and a kiss, he was off. Huan whined after Dooku left, as if he sensed how much distress Dooku was in - he was right - and then Maglor, feeling sympathetic, gave Huan a dog treat. "That's a good boy," he said, petting the dog as he scarfed up the treat.  
  
After lapping up water, Huan started whining again, this time for a different reason. Sören and Maglor both recognized "the potty dance". "You want to come with me to take him for a walk?" Maglor asked.  
  
Sören nodded. "Might as well."  
  
It was drizzling instead of raining now. Maglor wore a leather jacket over his black sweater and black jeans, and Sören was fine in a hooded sweatshirt over his flannel shirt and the T-shirt underneath, hands in the pockets of his jeans as Maglor took him by the arm. It was a short walk from their house to downtown Akureyri and they went into town, which was quiet on a night like this. There was something melancholy yet peaceful about walking in the night, in the damp, with shops and restaraunts lit up, the occasional car driving by, Huan waggling his tail and lolling his tongue like he had not a care in the world, was happy to be out - _at least somebody is happy right now_ , Sören thought, looking up at the night sky.  
  
"Remember when we used to go for walks in Reykjavik?" Maglor asked.  
  
"I do." Sören nodded.  
  
"Akureyri is such a different flavor. Smaller, obviously, less busy. But tonight it almost feels like back then, walking after we had _paella_ , getting some fresh air, just being together." Maglor leaned in to steal a kiss.  
  
"I miss it sometimes." Sören was finally admitting it aloud. "Not that I want to turn back time and undo all of... this. What we know now compared to what we knew then. What we are now, what we have now. But I miss certain things about it." Sören's lips quirked. "When you said _desafinado_ , back home..."  
  
"Ah." Maglor's arm unhooked from Sören's arm and went around his waist now, giving him a little squeeze. "To be honest, I miss it too, but I thought that it might be... a sore spot for you. A reminder of when I was lying. Of when I left. I worried you'd think I was being 'fake', pretending to be something I'm not..."  
  
Sören paused in his tracks for a moment, gave Maglor a look, and then shook his head and started walking again. His left hand came out of his pocket and now his arm was around Maglor's waist too. "I want you to be yourself... I want you to be comfortable. But you told me yourself over a year ago that when you, you know, played the part of a Brazilian, that was authentic to your _heart_. I understand if you don't want to 'put on the performance' at home when you still have to do it out here." Sören looked around to make sure there were no passerby who could hear them, but it looked like it was all clear. "But if you do, and you've been holding back because you're worried I'll judge you... well, it's not that dissimilar to how I was Fëanor and now I'm Sören. You are the sum of your experiences, both the present and the past. If you visited Brazil and fell in love with it and it became a part of you, I'm OK with you recognizing that and expressing it, somehow. It won't feel fake to me."  
  
Maglor stopped walking and he took Sören into his arms, held him tight. "Thank you for understanding, _meu fogo_."  
  
Sören's breath hitched at the old endearment. He took Maglor's face in his hands and kissed him passionately.  
  
Maglor kissed him back, hard enough to take Sören's breath away - hard enough for Sören's cock to rise in his jeans. Huan whined as if to say "let's keep walking," and Maglor chuckled and they resumed walking. But, stealing glances at each other, both flushed and breathing hard, they soon started back for home.  
  
"You think we could have a night where I paint, you play?" Sören took Maglor's hand. "Nico thinks I should do something productive, and that feels productive, and like... like old times. A continuation of what we had, back in Reykjavik, something comforting and familiar."  
  
"I'd like that," Maglor said, nodding.  
  
When they got back home, Sören set up his easel, a fresh canvas and paints. Maglor took out his acoustic guitar, instead of playing on the war harp.  
  
Tonight, Maglor was playing a combination of old songs of his - Sören recognized "By the Sea" and "Saudade", from when they'd first met - and improvisations, some instrumental, some where he sang in Elvish. And as he played, Sören found himself painting the next part of a series, a series he didn't think he'd be continuing.   
  
There was a set of three paintings Sören had made, that Sören entitled _Triptych_. The first two were the last paintings he'd done, in the weeks and months prior to "Alejandro"'s departure in 2014, before the long dry spell where Sören couldn't make art at all. They were both set at Reynisfjara, the black sand beach.   
  
In the first one Maglor was depicted as a merman - this had been years before Sören knew he was an Elf, but painting as he did from his mind's eye, Sören thought in hindsight that subconsciously, he probably knew Maglor wasn't human. Maglor-the-merman's tail glimmered in a silver light shining through dark storm clouds, and he wore a silver crown and was strewn with pearls in his hair and necklaces, playing a harp on the beach. Sören hadn't known Maglor could play the harp back then, either. There was a storm in the sky, and Sören had painted himself on the beach, laying in wreckage from a ship, tangled in seaweed, waking to the sound of the harp, love in his eyes.  
  
In the second painting, the storm had passed and given way to a rainbow. Maglor lay on his back in the sand - he now had human legs, that were covered in drops of Sören's cum. Sören was riding him, Maglor buried in him to the hilt, his cock dripping precum onto Maglor's body. Sören was wearing one of the pearl necklaces that Maglor had been wearing, and there was a leash of pearls attached, wrapped around Maglor's hand.  
  
The third painting had been done in summer 2019 - five years after the Reynisfjara was in storms once again, an even fiercer storm than the first portrait. From the waves rose an eldritch kraken, and on the beach lay a bloody human heart, a trail of blood leading into the sea, which glowed with a strange light.  
  
Now Sören was painting Reynisfjara again. On his thirty-fifth birthday in November 2019, Sören had found the first Silmaril at Reynisfjara, and Maglor had been there with him. They made love on the beach to celebrate. Sören did not paint them making love on the beach, nor did he try to recreate the finding of the Silmaril. But in this painting they clasped the other's hand, and two of the three Silmarils were present, one floating above Sören's free hand, one floating above Maglor's free hand, bathing them in light. A storm gathered in the sky again, red sunset mixing with dark clouds to give the appearance of ashes and fire. A bonfire burned nearby, embers floating into the sky. Maglor's and Sören's hair stirred in the breeze, and the wind itself took on a magical appearance as it swirled around them, silvery and iridescent.  
  
The painting wouldn't be finished tonight, but it was well on its way there, Sören frantic, feverish. Maglor's set was winding down with cover songs.  
  
 _Whenever I'm alone with you  
You make me feel like I am home again  
Whenever I'm alone with you  
You make me feel like I am whole again  
  
Whenever I'm alone with you  
You make me feel like I am young again  
Whenever I'm alone with you  
You make me feel like I am fun again  
  
However far away  
I will always love you  
However long I stay  
I will always love you  
Whatever words I say  
I will always love you  
I will always love you  
  
Whenever I'm alone with you  
You make me feel like I am free again  
Whenever I'm alone with you  
You make me feel like I am clean again  
  
However far away  
I will always love you  
However long I stay  
I will always love you  
Whatever words I say  
I will always love you  
I will always love you_  
  
Sören's eyes burned with tears, and his heart burned even more. The tears threatened to overtake him in the next song.  
  
 _On the floating, shapeless oceans  
I did all my best to smile  
'Til your singing eyes and fingers  
Drew me loving into your eyes  
  
And you sang, "Sail to me, sail to me let me enfold you"  
Here I am, here I am waiting to hold you  
  
Did I dream you dreamed about me?  
Were you here when I was full sail?  
Now my foolish boat is leaning  
Broken love lost on your rocks  
  
For you sang, "Touch me not, touch me not, come back tomorrow"  
Oh my heart, oh my heart shies from the sorrow  
  
Well I'm as puzzled as a newborn child  
I'm as riddled as the tide  
Should I stand amid the breakers?  
Or should I lie with death my bride?  
  
Hear me sing, "Swim to me, swim to me, let me enfold you"  
Here I am, here I am, waiting to hold you  
_  
  
Sören had to stop painting. He tried to hold back the tears, but the dam erupted. Maglor put down his guitar, and he drew Sören into his arms, held him tight, rocked him, made soothing noises. Then, when he saw what Sören had been working on, his jaw dropped, and he exhaled sharply.  
  
" _Flame and Song_ ," he whispered.  
  
Sören nodded and sobbed harder. Maglor rained fierce kisses over Sören's face, and then grabbed Sören's face in his hands and kissed him passionately. They were both crying now, and they rocked together, weeping, overcome by emotion that defied classification, too many emotions coming together and colliding, consuming them.  
  
"I feel too much," Sören cried. "It hurts so much."  
  
And Maglor knew he couldn't take away the pain completely. But Sören saw him trying to do something, anything, to reach out and give Sören some relief, somehow. Maglor picked up his guitar again and to Sören's surprise and delight, he began to play the same song he'd used to declare his feelings to Sören in 2009, what felt like ages ago now.  
  
 _Tall and dark and young and lovely, the boy from Akureyri goes walking  
And when he passes, each one he passes goes - ah  
When he walks, he's like a samba that swings so cool and sways so gentle  
That when he passes, each one he passes goes - ah  
But I watch him so sadly, how can I tell him I love him  
Yes I would give my heart gladly,  
But each day, when he walks to the sea  
He looks straight ahead, not at me  
Tall, and dark and young and lovely, the boy from Akureyri goes walking  
And when he passes, I smile - but he doesn't see (doesn't see)  
(He just doesn't see, he never sees me...)  
_  
  
Maglor put his guitar down, picked up Sören, and carried him over to the futon in the corner of the studio room. Maglor quickly undressed, and Sören did too, their clothes in a haphazard heap on the floor. Maglor climbed over Sören then, lay him back on the futon, and grabbed Sören's wrists with his hands, pinning him down to kiss him again and again, hard cocks rubbing together.  
  
" _Eu te amo, espírito de fogo._ " Maglor kissed Sören's neck, licked, nibbled. " _Meu incêndio, ninguém pode domar, ninguém pode apagar. Você queima tão brilhantemente. Você é a luz do mundo. E eu preciso de você agora mais do que nunca, exatamente como você é, do jeito que você manteve o fogo queimando na escuridão. Humano ou elfo, é a sua luz que eu amo._ "  
  
And though Sören had no idea what he was saying, his heart somehow _knew_ , just the same. He stroked Maglor's face, pet his hair. "Take me to a better place for awhile," Sören whispered. "Take me into the Song."  
  
Maglor kissed Sören again, fiercely, his hands grabbing Sören's wrists once more. Their cocks rubbed and rubbed, kissing with such passion and sensuality that Sören felt close to coming already just like this. When Maglor kissed down Sören's throat to kiss his nipples, to lick and suckle them, Sören cried out and bucked against him, cock throbbing, precum flowing.  
  
"Please..." Sören let out a little whimper and shivered.  
  
Sören heard himself cry out over and over as Maglor teased his pierced nipples, knowing just what Sören liked, knowing he'd gotten his nipples pierced for this reason. His silver eyes were molten mercury as he tugged a nipple ring with his teeth before lashing the aching peak with his tongue, nibbling, sucking hard, then his tongue brushing slow and feather-light. "Beautiful," Maglor husked. "All of you is beautiful, _meu lindo fogo._ "  
  
He kept Sören on that edge, cock rubbing cock as he went back and forth between Sören's exquisitely sensitized, hard nipples, then kissed and licked and nibbled his way up Sören's collarbone, shoulder, throat, to claim his mouth. They kissed, and their tongues licked together betwen kisses, teasing, playing, before Maglor kissed back down Sören's jaw and throat and shoulder and collarbone, to feast on his nipples some more. And the silken steel of Maglor's cock felt so good against his, their sensitive frenulums brushing, Sören feeling Maglor's cock throbbing against his, as his own pulsed and twinged, stiffening almost painfully, balls tight and ready to explode.  
  
At last Maglor let go of Sören's wrists and Sören touched everywhere he could reach, hands sliding over the sleek, hard Noldorin warrior's body. He played with the flood of Maglor's hair, enjoying the silky texture, the way it shone blue-black in the light. Maglor's fingers walked over Sören's body, lingering on the nipples to brush and pluck, making Sören crazy, crying out into their kiss. And then Maglor played with Sören's curls, rubbing his scalp, and Sören's arms wrapped around him, and they kissed like they were breathing each other's souls, needed each desperate, hungry kiss to stay alive. They ground against each other harder, faster, cock teasing cock, until Sören could take no more and his orgasm erupted. With a wild cry, he watched as his cock splashed its seed over Maglor's, and a few seconds later Maglor's cock splashed over his own cock. The rich cream spurted and flowed, a most erotic sight, even more erotic when Maglor scooped up their combined essence with his fingers and fed Sören, and Sören fed Maglor from his own fingers. They kissed, sharing their taste between them, the divine sweetness of Flame and Song. It felt like they had just done something sacred, something magical, and Sören could feel the energy winding between them and around them, like thunder and lightning and fire and wind and then freedom, soaring, clouds and light.  
  
They needed more. A few kisses later, they hardened up again, and settled between each other's legs, sucking each other. Maglor's cock in his mouth soothed and aroused Sören all at once, and Maglor's mouth on him was to die for, Sören moaning around the cock in his mouth, gently thrusting into Maglor's mouth as Maglor rubbed his tongue while he sucked.  
  
They drank each other greedily, licked each other clean, and went back for seconds, sucking harder than before, devouring. Maglor teased Sören by licking his cock all over, licking Sören's balls, tongue lashing the sensitive place where balls and ass met, before his tongue speared inside him. Sören followed suit, pushing his tongue into Maglor's opening, working his tongue like a hurricane. Back and forth they went between sucking each other's cocks and licking inside each other, trembling together, moaning and gasping. And when they flooded each other's mouths again, it was so, so good.  
  
It still wasn't enough. They were in that space now where they were completely lost in each other, that need to possess each other and be possessed, consume, _burn_ together. Kol and Edenel leaving, the imminent Dagorath, Qui's death - it all faded away as Maglor lay on his back and Sören sank into him, as Maglor grabbed Sören's hips and rasped, "Give me all you've got," and Sören let the beast in him take over, pounding into Maglor without mercy, and Maglor rocked his hips right back at Sören, until Sören wondered who was fucking who. Sören took Maglor's cock in his hand, stroking it in time with his furious thrusts, rattling it. Sören's free hand caressed Maglor's body, needing to touch him, feel him. And Sören quivered to Maglor's hands sliding over him, reverent, worshipful.  
  
Maglor spent over Sören's chest and stomach, crying out, "Sören, Fëanáro, _adar_ , _meu querido_!" Sören was deeply, deeply gratified, growling "Kanafinwë" as he took three last violent thrusts and came into him.  
  
And yet they still hungered for more. Sören pulled out of Maglor, still straddling his hips, and now he impaled himself on Maglor's cock, both of them crying out as Maglor buried himself to the hilt. Sören bounced wildly, panting, gasping, almost sobbing as he worked his hips and ass and Maglor thrust into him, balls slapping against him, hitting that sweet spot deep inside Sören again and again. "Fuck, oh god, that's so good," Sören wailed, nails digging into Maglor's flesh. "Fuck me, fuck me, _fuck me_..."  
  
"Need you," Maglor growled. "Need you so much..."  
  
Their eyes met, and Sören leaned down for a kiss. They slowed down together, Maglor's arms around Sören. The pleasure and tension built to fever pitch, ever higher and deeper, as time seemed to stop with each slow, sensuous thrust. They were lost together, reaching back to those times in Reykjavik when love was new and they nested... further back to when Maglor was a young man and explored his sexuality with Fëanor... and reaching into the future, as uncertain as it was. _Give me you, and I will survive anything. We will find light in the darkness. Our fire will forge the Song out of the silence of dust._  
  
Sören rode even harder than before, Maglor making a deep, feral, primal, guttural noise as he held onto Sören tight and slammed into him, Sören bucking like he was on a wild bull. And they came together, screaming. Sören aimed so his seed sprayed all over Maglor's body, his face and his hair, like the strands of pearls in the painting from years ago. _Claim you,_ Sören thought in the back of his mind before he couldn't think anymore, only feel that surging, melting pleasure.  
  
Sören licked the mess from Maglor's skin, and when he lapped up Maglor's face, Maglor laughed before he licked at Sören's tongue, and then they were kissing again, rubbing their tongues together between kisses, and still they wanted more. Sören got on all fours, face down ass up, and Maglor took him from behind, pulling Sören's curls, fucking him savagely, growling - which Sören found so delicious. It was this orgasm that finally slaked their hunger, for now, Sören coming so hard he shrieked, the entire world seeming to fall away in white light, white heat. And then it was just floating bliss, as peaceful as it had been wild. Maglor made a noise of contentment as he lay with his chest on Sören's back, nuzzling Sören's curls.  
  
"I love you," Maglor whispered.  
  
"I love you."  
  
Sören passed out like that. At some point he was aware of Maglor carrying him to bed and he settled between Maglor and Dooku. He slept soundly, instead of the fitful sleep he'd had all week with the stress of the weekend and Monday carrying over.  
  
  
_  
  
  
The alarm went off on Friday morning at Sören's usual wake-up time - he hadn't been the one to set it - and he gave it a murderous glare as he slammed it off. Then he gave a murderous glare to Maglor who walked in and said, "Good morning, _meu querido._ "  
  
"I thought you told me to take today off," Sören grumbled.  
  
"I did. But I thought it might be nice to go somewhere, and we have a limited amount of daylight for that."  
  
Sören showered and dressed, and when he saw Dooku out in the living room, he asked, "Are you coming with us?"  
  
"I am not," Dooku said. "I am writing. The two of you enjoy yourselves, though."  
  
Sören gave Dooku a look on the way out. He suspected Dooku was isolating himself after Qui's death - it was one thing to need space to process grief, it was another thing to shut down and shut others out, and Sören had a fair amount of experience with doing that himself, both in this life and when he was Fëanor.  
  
Maglor noticed as he drove in the direction of the airport. "Don't worry too much about him," Maglor said. "We'll give him some time, and then we'll drag him along to do something tomorrow."  
  
It wasn't raining, nor was it sunny - it was cool and overcast. The weather predicted sunshine tomorrow, but it was today that they were going to Reynisfjara, which Sören figured out once they'd flown into Reykjavik, Maglor got a rental car in the city, and proceeded to drive out of the city. The car felt a little too warm for some reason, and Sören would have just chalked it up to being a different car than what they were used to, but he knew it wasn't that.  
  
Maglor had brought music for the ride and on the way down the car stereo played appropriately somber, atmospheric goth songs - Sören recognized Black Tape For A Blue Girl, This Ascension, Love Spirals Downwards. As "Illusory Me" by Love Spirals Downwards played, Sören looked at the dark clouds in the sky and thought of Kol and Edenel...  
  
...and Vanimórë.  
  
Sören closed his eyes. The thought that he might never see Vanimórë again fell upon him hard.  
  
"Sören," Maglor said, knowing what he was thinking, "he's a part of you now. His blood gave you eternal life. And the best way to connect with him... with all of them, Edenel, Kol... is to do what we're about to do."  
  
Suddenly Sören understood why the car felt so warm. "You brought the Silmarils, didn't you?"  
  
Maglor nodded. "Well, the two that we have."  
  
"I could... feel them. I didn't know quite what I was feeling..."  
  
"We've got to work on that." Maglor narrowed his eyes. "Those are yours by right." He sighed. "I suspect you would have _known_ what you were feeling if you didn't have that..." He made a vague hand gesture. "Grief hanging over you. That sadness. You're always a touch melancholy, with what your life has been like, but this week has been..."  
  
"A week." Sören nodded. "Makes sense."  
  
There was no one at the beach on a gloomy October day like today. Maglor took his acoustic guitar out of the backseat, and Sören carried the pouch with the Silmarils. They built a bonfire together, and Maglor began to play on the guitar.  
  
At first the music was melancholy, like what had been playing on the drive down. And then the music was brighter - bossa novas, Maglor singing in Portuguese. Sören made a makeshift torch with a big piece of driftwood and found himself beginning to dance in circles around Maglor and the fire, and then out to shore and back, letting himself be one with Maglor's music, and one with the memories of happier times living together in Reykjavik... the promise of happier times to come.  
  
The sun began to set, and just as it had in the painting, dark storm clouds gathered in the red sky, fierce and ominous. Yet Maglor's music was joyous, celebratory. And at last Maglor put down his guitar, picked up a piece of driftwood, lit his own torch, and joined Sören. They danced together, with Maglor singing  
  
 _Se você disser que eu desafino amor  
Saiba que isso em mim provoca imensa dor  
Só privilegiados têm ouvido igual ao seu  
Eu possuo apenas o que Deus me deu  
Se você insiste em classificar  
Meu comportamento de anti-musical  
Eu mesmo mentindo devo argumentar  
Que isto é bossa-nova, que isto é muito natural  
O que você não sabe nem sequer pressente  
É que os desafinados também têm um coração  
  
Fotografei você na minha Roleiflex  
Revelou-se a sua enorme ingratidão  
Só não poderá falar assim do meu amor  
Que ele é o maior que você pode encontrar, viu  
Você com a sua música esqueceu o principal  
Que no peito dos desafinados  
No fundo do peito bate calado  
Que no peito dos desafinados  
Também bate um coração_  
  
Then Maglor threw the driftwood torch into the sea, as if he were offering fire to the sea for the sea giving up the first Silmaril almost a year ago. And then Sören did the same... and then the two Silmarils they had rose from the pouch, one over each of their hands, as in the painting, like shining a brilliant lamp over them. Sören and Maglor looked into each other's eyes - Sören felt himself break out into gooseflesh, chills down his spine - and it seemed for a moment like he could hear, in the distance, the song of sirens... the choir of a thousand voices. A breeze stirred, and Sören watched the light of the Silmarils light up the wind, dancing around them.  
  
Maglor spoke, and now his voice was like a thousand voices. " _ **Whatever happens, you and I will have each other. We will be all right. What the Force has brought back together, let no one put asunder. Let the Flame and Song be felt once more, to heal this world.**_ "   
  
They kissed, and that kiss was like pure fire. They fell on each other, as hungry as they were last night. They drank each other, took turns inside each other - Sören on all fours in the sand, Sören riding Maglor, Maglor laying on his back as Sören took him, then at last Maglor riding Sören. They came to climax again and again, cries echoing over the waves. And finally, spent, they held each other by the bonfire, the Silmarils in Sören's hand, Maglor's hand over Sören's, on his heart. Sunset had become dusk and now the first dark of evening, looking up at the first stars in the sky. Sören felt a sense of wonder, like he was seeing the world for the first time. Like something in him had changed, had been reborn or renewed, somehow.  
  
"We should go back," Maglor said.  
  
Sören nodded.  
  
As they put their clothes back on, and put out the bonfire, the wonder Sören felt faded, and was replaced by trepidation. He paused to take one last look out at the sea and the stars, and couldn't shake the feeling that this was the last time he'd ever see Reynisfjara - or at least not for a very long time, long enough that to Sören's was-mortal-just-over-a-year-ago way of thinking, was long enough that it would feel like "never again". He tried to brush that feeling off as just being worried about Kol and Edenel and Vanimórë, as the product of having attended a funeral earlier this week... but it lingered, a new miasma to replace the old.  
  
Maglor seemed to sense it when they got in the car, making a face. He turned off the haunting, sad goth music when they got on the road. "Enough of that," he said, and put in his hair metal playlist, giving Sören a cheesy grin.  
  
As they started down the highway back towards Reykjavik, the first song that came up on random felt disturbingly relevant for everything that was happening.  
  
 _I follow the Moskva  
Down to Gorky Park  
Listening to the wind of change  
An August summer night  
Soldiers passing by  
Listening to the wind of change_  
  
Sören lit a lighter, making Maglor laugh.  
  
 _The world is closing in  
Did you ever think  
That we could be so close, like brothers  
The future's in the air  
I can feel it everywhere  
Blowing with the wind of change  
  
Take me to the magic of the moment  
On a glory night  
Where the children of tomorrow dream away  
in the wind of change_  
  
Maglor got a little choked up when the song was done - Sören knew it would always remind him of his time in West Berlin, watching the Wall come down.  
  
And then, as if the Force itself said they needed a lift, drums thumped and there was a familiar guitar riff. Sören turned it up and sang along:  
  
 _Backstroke lover  
Always hidin' 'neath the covers  
'Til I talked to your daddy, he say  
  
He said, "You ain't seen nothin'  
'Til you're down on a muffin  
Then you're sure to be a-changin' your ways"  
  
I met a cheerleader  
Was a real young bleeder  
Oh, the times I could reminisce  
  
'Cause the best things of lovin'  
With her sister and her cousin  
Only started with a little kiss  
Like this  
_  
  
Sören played air guitar. "Feels like it's missing something," Sören said. "Dunno what, though."  
  
Maglor shrugged.  
  
 _Seesaw swingin' with the boys in the school  
And your feet flyin' up in the air  
Singin', "Hey diddle diddle"  
With your kitty in the middle  
Of the swing like you didn't care  
  
So I took a big chance  
At the high school dance  
With a missy who was ready to play  
Wasn't me she was foolin'  
'Cause she knew what she was doin'  
And I knew love was here to stay  
When she told me to  
  
"Walk this way, talk this way"  
"Walk this way, walk this way"  
"Walk this way, walk this way"  
"Walk this way, talk this way"  
Just gimme a kiss  
Like this  
_  
  
Now Sören was playing air guitar on a Silmaril, which was a bit small for it and looked ridiculous. Maglor facepalmed and shook his head. "Dammit, Sören..."  
  
"That's the tiny guitar I'm playing for Morgoth," Sören said, "since we don't have a tiny violin."  
  
Maglor snorted and howled. "OK, Ada."  
  
But Sören knew, then, that Morgoth was going to put up one hell of a fight, and that was why he was worried. The trip had been a balm for the past week, but things weren't resolved yet.  
  
And they needed to find that third Silmaril, and soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you'd like to see Sören play air guitar to "Walk This Way" on something that isn't a Silmaril, you might like [_Fumbling Towards Ecstasy_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18459263) (where Sören and Maglor meet and fall in love in a different universe).


	9. The Power of Three

**The Power of Three**

Sören was not a morning person, and nonetheless he found himself waking up just before dawn on the morning of Saturday, October third. He headed into the studio room and put the final details on the painting of himself and Maglor at Reynisfjara with the two Silmarils. It seemed odd to him that this painting went with the other three and yet this one was a sort of snapshot, something literal, while the other three had been symbolic, and then Sören thought to himself, _We had to get through the layers of metaphor and symbolism to find the truth. Like all mythologies._

That thought gave him a frisson, and it also led him out to the living room to take up his father's journal once more. And like his previous attempt at reading it, he once again didn't get very far before he had that sick, sad feeling again, seeing with his mind's eye his father's fear and courage as Odin was threatening him, his wife, his children - the nightmares, the visions, the freak "accidents" that he barely missed, that were too many coincidences to be a coincidence.

Sören went back to bed, but he couldn't sleep, feeling too awake, and now also, too disturbed. Dooku rolled against him, arms tight around him. Sören started raining kisses over Dooku's face, making him smile, and then Sören smiled when he felt the tent in Dooku's pajama bottoms. Since Qui's death Dooku had been avoiding sex, and Sören had been willing to give him some space, but he missed his husband and ached to comfort him. Now, as Sören palmed the bulge in Dooku's pajama bottoms and Dooku stretched against him and made an "mmmmm", petting Sören's curls, Sören hungered.

He claimed Dooku's mouth. "I love you, you know," Sören husked.

"I know," Dooku said. His eyes opened, sad but warm. "I love you too."

They kissed again. "I want to make love to you," Sören whispered. "I want to make you feel better." Sören reached for Dooku's cock down his pajama bottoms, his own cock twinging as Dooku's cock leapt in his hand. "Can I offer you a blowjob?"

"May I."

Sören's eyes narrowed.

Dooku's eyes crinkled at the corners, his lips quirked into a tiny smile. "Well? What are you waiting for?"

They kissed again - Sören gave him a playful swat for the unnecessary grammar lesson - and then Sören dove down, pulling down Dooku's pajama bottoms just enough to get his cock out. Sören nuzzled the luxurious silver bush framing it, breathing in the clean musk of him, and then took a few teasing licks, making Dooku groan, his cock hardening further. At last Sören took the cock into his mouth, swallowing down the first third, his hand rubbing the rest of the shaft. He bobbed his head up and down, kissing Dooku's cock - sucking, tongue rubbing, playing - and Dooku moaned, petting Sören's curls, then grabbing them as Sören sucked harder, rubbed his tongue harder, the cock gliding in and out of his mouth faster. Sören got more of it down and Dooku let out a soft cry, then a deep groan as Sören cupped and rubbed the balls, making a slurping sound as he sucked away.

Maglor's eyes were open now and he watched them, idly stroking himself, then less idly when he saw Dooku noticing. Sören moaned around the cock in his mouth as Dooku and Maglor shared a kiss and then there was heat in their eyes as Dooku watched Maglor stroke himself with interest, and Maglor watched Sören sucking Dooku. Now Maglor was petting Sören as well, and gently rubbing his back. Sören sucked harder, the slurping noise louder, and so were Dooku's moans.

When Dooku and Maglor started kissing again, Sören took Dooku's cock out of his mouth and licked it - chased the precum flowing down the shaft, traced the throbbing veins with his tongue. He paid loving attention to the head, lashing the slit and then swirling around and around the head in circles. His tongue slid down to the sensitive, prominent frenulum, licking fast the slow. Dooku moaned, and once again pulled apart from Maglor to watch Sören teasing him. Sören's lips wrapped around the head, sucking just the head for a moment, then let the cock slip to lick it some more.

Sören carried on like that almost to the finish - hand rubbing the base of the shaft, sucking the head of the cock, licking it, making Dooku crazier and crazier, moaning, trembling. Maglor stroked himself harder, watching. And then, feeling mischievous, he sucked more of the length of Dooku's cock into his mouth, slowly, and when he felt Dooku tensing, balls tightening, he took the cock out of his mouth again and licked the head. Just before Dooku could come like that, Sören reached for Maglor's cock, and Maglor knew without Sören saying anything what he wanted. Sören fit the heads of both cocks into his mouth and sucked them hard, rubbing his tongue as hard and fast as he could with his mouth so full, making a filthy slurping noise. Maglor and Dooku kissed, quivering together, moaning, and then at last Maglor warned, " _Sören_ \- " and that was all the warning Sören got before they flooded his mouth at the same time. Sören reached down his own pajama bottoms and brought himself off almost immediately as he swallowed down the delicious taste of his men together, as his body responded to that delicious feeling of being so wanton, so shameless in his lust for them.

"Good morning," Maglor said as the three tangled up together, and Dooku laughed. Sören gave a wicked grin.

Huan bounded onto the bed, and after licking their three faces, Huan began to whine. Maglor rolled his eyes. "He needs to go out," Maglor said.

Maglor and Sören pulled their pants back up and took Huan out in the front yard, in their pajamas, waiting as Huan did his business. When they got back in Dooku was making coffee.

"Do you have plans today?" Sören asked, coming over to hug Dooku and give him a kiss.

"I hadn't thought that far ahead," Dooku said.

"Well..." Sören folded his arms. "You've been isolating yourself a lot since the wake. Which is understandable, but it can't go on forever." He reached out to stroke Dooku's face, then. "I miss you."

Dooku kissed Sören's brow. "I love you."

"So..." Sören glared at him. "You're doing something with us today."

"I think I rather did something with you just now."

"Besides fuck all day, you dirty old man."

Dooku's laughter rang out, and Sören grinned too - he loved making Dooku laugh, especially when he needed it. And it was so good to hear Dooku laugh after the sorrow of this past week.

They had coffee in the living room and Dooku said, more seriously, "I'm afraid I wouldn't be good company. I'm still... processing... everything..."

"Eeyore's friends invite him to things whether he's sad or not," Sören said. "I miss you, you don't have to put on an act and be Mr. Fun Guy for me. But if you really feel self-conscious about it, we could go somewhere, do something out and about."

"Like what?" Dooku raised an eyebrow.

Sören scratched his beard and looked at Maglor, then back at Dooku. "Well... we went to Reynisfjara yesterday. Not that again -" Once again Sören thought of that weird feeling he'd had as he was leaving the beach, that it would be his last time at Reynisfjara or at least not for a very, very long time. "But, you know, maybe a day trip somewhere. Even a weekend trip."

"Do you have any suggestions?"

"Jæja, this is for _you_ , so it's more where you want to go, what you want to do."

"Yes, and as I told you, I hadn't made plans, hadn't thought of it, and..." Dooku frowned. "I just don't know."

"OK, well." Sören hated talking like this, but he also needed a bit of levity with everything happening. "Let's act like it's the end of the world. You can do one thing on your 'bucket list for Iceland' that you haven't gotten around to, something you haven't seen yet, someplace we haven't been yet. What is our last hurrah gonna be?"

Dooku took a deep breath. His brow furrowed and his frown intensified - he hated this kind of talk even more than Sören did, but he also appeared to be taking the question seriously, stroking his beard thoughtfully. "All right," he said after a couple minutes. "What's that volcano that erupted in 2010, the one that nobody outside Iceland can pronounce, gave us a bit of trouble in Britain -"

"Eyjafjallajökull."

"Yes. That one. Is it possible to see that?"

Sören nodded. "We have to fly down to Reykjavik and rent a jeep, preferably a superjeep, but we can drive it all the way up."

"Have you ever been?"

Sören shook his head. "No, but a couple at my school went once for a romantic weekend and showed us pictures and stuff, which is how I know. If I remember correctly it's about a three-hour drive out of Reykjavik one way, and there's a lot of stuff in the area that's worth going slowly for, maybe getting out of the jeep and taking a look, so we might as well do a weekend. I'll call María to see if she can watch the animals."

María - one of Sören's students, who had looked after Huan and Snuður before, was actually for once not available to watch them. Sören took a moment to think, and then he called Vigdís and Páll, his old neighbors when he and Dooku were living in Svalbarðseyri, who he and Dooku used to get together with semi-regularly but had only seen intermittently outside of the studio since the move into town, and hadn't hung out with since the summer. Sören felt a little guilty only getting in touch with them now when he needed something, but he resolved to make it up to them.

Vigdís answered her phone after one ring. "Hej, Sören. How goes it?"

She didn't seem angry to hear from him. "Hej, Vigdís. Sorry it's been awhile, and I'm even sorrier to be calling you when I have a favor to ask..."

"It's all right, dear, what do you need?"

"Me and the men are going away for the weekend, can you take my pets till Sunday night? At least Huan, to make sure he gets out?" Huan was the offspring of their dog Auli.

"Oh sure, I can do that!"

"We... we've got three cats now."

Vigdís chuckled. "Are you trying to start a feline army, Sören?"

"Shhhh, that's classified."

Vigdís laughed harder. "But yes, I can do that for you - you can bring them all here, the kids will be happy to have the cats around."

"Great. I'll make it up to you - maybe you and Páll and the kids can come by this week sometime for dinner, or we'll take you guys out to dinner, our treat?"

"You don't have to pay us back, Sören, you used to drive the kids around on short notice and insist on not taking money for it. But we'd like to see you again anyway, so yes, let's get together this week sometime."

That sounded like another thing that would lift the spirits. Sören already felt a little better. "Excellent. OK, well we'll drop them off when we're on our way to the airport and see you in a bit."

As Sören packed an overnight bag, he heard Dooku on the phone, then, making reservations at a hotel in the area.

When they were all packed and ready, they loaded their bags, then Huan and the three cat carriers into the jeep. They drove first to Svalbarðseyri to drop off the animals - and Sören almost fell apart again as they drove past the cabin where he and Dooku lived for awhile, again feeling nostalgia for when life was simple and uncomplicated, when he and Dooku were nesting, cozy, and Sören had felt like he'd finally found some peace in this world. He didn't want to go back to the way things were if it meant leaving Maglor behind, nor did he want to live with the Doom hanging over his head, and the curse of Odin - if nothing else, Odin was going to pay somehow for what he did to Sören's parents - and Sören thought that if there were any more long-lost members of the House of Finwë out there, like Finarfin reborn, he'd rather meet them. It was worth the price of leaving behind the cozy nest - the illusion of peace.

And yet, it hurt so much to remember what he once had, and know that it was gone forever. An ache for the beautiful memories he and Dooku had made in that cabin, starting in November 2017 when Sören had taken him on a trip to Iceland, and Sören had taken Dooku's virginity after Dooku saw the northern lights for the first time.

Sören took some deep breaths, trying to pull himself together. Everything felt so _final_ , somehow. He was starting to understand Maglor's songs of _saudade_ when they were first in love - not that this compared to the First Age, the kingdom and family that had been lost. But it was still a loss of a home that could never be gone back to.

On the short plane ride from Akureyri to Reykjavik, Sören tried to distract himself. He reached into the satchel slung over his shoulder, into the pouch where he kept the two Silmarils, pulsing, warm to the touch. His thumb rubbed them for comfort. He thought about what he had long ago, as Fëanor, with Fingolfin, Maglor, and Finarfin. Things could never be the same, but _something_ of the past had returned, and he was making a new chapter of their saga, the fusion of past and present into something new... an evolution. He had sacrificed "normal" - whatever that even was - for this life.

_I hope it'll be worth it. Eternity doesn't guarantee happiness. It only guarantees, well, eternity. And not even that, if our enemies get more aggressive._ Sören wondered if the impending Dagorath would change the game somehow.

Maglor sensed the inner storm cloud drawing over Sören again and he snapped his fingers. "Hey," Maglor said, giving him a stern look. "We're going to have fun this weekend if it kills us."

"It better not kill us."

"No." Maglor's lips quirked without humor. "It had better not."

_

Maglor drove the superjeep from Reykjavik, on the three-plus hour ride to Eyjafjallajökull. What was supposed to be a three-hour ride did indeed get longer as they took a detour after an hour and forty minutes first to see the legendary Seljalandsfoss waterfall and the nearby Gljúfrabúi waterfall, fed by the meltwater of the Eyjafjallajökull glacier.

They pulled the jeep over, took a walk across the green highlands and made it over, first to the magnificent, powerful Seljalandsfoss, a huge waterfall that made Maglor, Dooku and Sören look absolutely tiny. The power of the giant falls was almost terrifying in its intensity, and yet also intoxicating. Sören loved the wonder in Maglor and Dooku's eyes as they watched the falls - a wonder he himself felt. He'd seen the Goðafoss many times in Akureyri, and it was magnificent, but it definitely wasn't "if you've seen one waterfall you've seen them all", each had a different, distinct character, flavor. This one was big and strong yet also welcoming, sharing of its power. It seemed almost happy to see them, and Sören splashed around in the water, playing like a big kid, giggling, forgetting about his troubles for awhile.

Then they hiked to the ravine where Gljúfrabúi cascaded down the lushly green moss-covered boulders - the falls were partially obscured by the cliff rock, but there was a trail to enter the canyon, and from the gorge they watched the water plummet to a small pool. Being under the shelter of the rock and looking out to the open, watching the bottom of the falls felt magical, a frisson down Sören's spine. Sören's breath was taken away as, in the old-gold light of afternoon, he watched gold-tinged rainbows glimmer. It felt like here, the world was offering them refuge somehow, a solace from everything that had happened as of late... a moment of peace. It was wet here too, enough that Sören was grateful Dooku had admonished to bring waterproof boots and a change of clothing. Yet the spray was not unpleasant, feeling like it was cleansing away some of the miasma that had accumulated since the news of the impending Dagorath.

Feeling invigorated, smiling, they continued their journey to the glacial volcano of Eyjafjallajökull. In the superjeep they were able to drive all the way up. Sören had never seen a volcano this close before in the entire time he'd lived in Iceland, and though it was "sleeping" - not erupting at the moment - there was nonetheless the strong sense that it was alive, a sort of uneasy thrum around them, a burning energy, further emphasized by the fire in the sky of sunset, a swath of scarlet cutting into blue. Sören half-wondered if the volcano would go off as they walked closer to the chasm, the thrumming intensifying, the sunset glowing as the red began to swallow the blue, with streaks of orange and fuschia. The Silmarils burned in their pouch.

Maglor got on his knees, and Sören sensed across their bond that he was having a moment of silence for Maedhros. Sören put a hand on Maglor's shoulder and then after a moment, he got on his knees as well. In his mind's eye Sören could suddenly see Fëanor's eldest son so clearly, tall, copper hair to his knees, fierce countenance, savage in battle, fearing no one, breaking only at the end, when he'd endured so much suffering. Maedhros was as a living sword, pledged to defend his family, his people. He had lived as a sword aflame, carrying Fëanor's fire - his warmth, his kindness, his laughter, his strong sense of purpose and conviction - after Fëanor was gone. It was losing Maedhros more than his other siblings that had destroyed Maglor inside, not just because of being closest in age and virtually inseparable growing up, but how very _alike_ Maedhros and Fëanor had been in personality, even as they had also been very different; Maedhros was no scholar, no artisan. But he had been truest to Fëanor's legacy in his defiance, his strength of will, until the every end.

"Maitimo," Maglor said. "Wherever you are."

For just a few seconds, Sören swore he could hear a didgeridoo, which made no sense to him. And then he felt the ground beneath them quake - not hard, but enough to make Sören tumble against Maglor, who caught him, held him as the ground quivered. Dooku quickly got on his knees now as well, and Sören looked up at the sky burning red, streaked with orange and gold in delicate plumes like phoenix feathers.

Across time, across worlds, Sören heard Vanimórë's voice in his head.

_Nothing is ever ended._

The chasm began to glow, brilliant white, until the white was drowning out the sunset, a flood of pure light. Sören could feel the heat, almost too hot, and it was coming towards them. He held out his hand and with the Force he _pulled_ , until he felt it in his palm like an egg of faceted glass, pulsing. Maglor began to sob, and they leaned on each other, tears falling down Sören's cheeks as well.

Dooku - shaking as much from the awe of the moment as well as feeling a bit rattled after the quake - came over and put an arm around each of them. Then, when he drew his arms back, the Silmaril rose from Sören's hand, and into Dooku's waiting, upturned hands. He held it with a look of mingled sorrow and relief, his own eyes too bright. Sören stood, finally, and so did Maglor. They each put an arm around Dooku's waist, and Sören reached out and the Silmaril floated back into his palm.

"I'm glad you were here for the third one," Sören husked.

And yet, as glad as he was to have all three Silmarils now, he felt a pang of regret, wishing Finarfin, wherever he was, had been here to see it as well. _I hope there's a universe somewhere, where Finarfin is with me for at least one of them._ Sören looked up at the fiery sunset and wondered where in the world his other brother was. What he was doing now.

Then he looked at the family he did have with him - Maglor, and Dooku-Fingolfin. He kissed each of them in turn, a sweet, lingering kiss. And then they fell on each other, kissing hard, fierce, a hunger in them awakened by the claiming of the final Silmaril. Now they needed to claim each other.

It scarcely mattered that they were on a glacier, that it was October in Iceland and almost nightfall. Their immortality gave them some immunity against the cold, the Silmarils were like a small heater, and their passion _burned_. Dooku used the Force to pull a blanket out of the back of the jeep, which made Sören laugh - echoing - as Dooku used the Force to spread it onto the ground. And then right there, on the volcano, they stripped each other down, not caring. Needing. This was all that mattered, right now, that need to be _together_.

They continued to take turns kissing each other, hands sliding over each other's bodies, needing to touch, feel. Then the three were devouring each other, Sören's cock in Dooku's mouth, Maglor's cock in Sören's mouth, Dooku's cock in Maglor's mouth, groaning, hands playing over what flesh they could reach. When Dooku's tongue slipped into him Sören cried out, and again when Sören knew he was being readied, prepared, for what was to come.

They re-positioned and, feverishly, Sören straddled Dooku's hips "reverse cowgirl" and began to bounce on his cock, with Maglor's cock in his mouth, as Maglor grabbed Sören's head, pet his curls, moaning sweetly and musically. Sören rode to climax, Dooku coming in him at the same time, and Maglor came a few seconds later, brought off by the sight and sound of his lovers coming together. Then Maglor pushed Sören down on the blanket and ate Dooku's seed out of him, Sören writhing and howling. And then, before Sören could climax from Maglor's tongue, Maglor drew Sören into his arms, onto his lap. Sören impaled himself on Maglor's cock, kissing him passionately, and after he'd been riding for a moment Dooku got behind him and pushed into Sören as well, arms around Sören from behind, hairy chest teasing Sören's sensitive back. Dooku began to kiss and lick Sören's neck and shoulders, knowing Sören was sensitive there as well, and when he tilted Sören's face to kiss his mouth, Sören almost cried from the sweetness of the kiss, almost came right then from the passion of it.

Sören was so full, and it felt so right, to be taken this way by both of them, right here right now, after finding the third Silmaril. Held safe and tight in their arms as their cocks worked inside him, rubbing him deliciously, Sören lost himself in pleasure, in lust, in love. He had never felt so alive in his life, and it felt like nothing could touch them, like this wasn't just sex, wasn't just a celebration, but was an act of magic, of power, stating to the universe that they would never be ripped apart from each other again.

As they trembled together, panting, gasping for breath, so close to orgasm yet wanting to make this last, needing to feel their bodies together, their hearts and souls together, as long as possible, the Silmarils rose from their pouch. Maglor grabbed onto one, Dooku the other, and Sören the other, and they were enveloped in pure white light, like the volcano didn't exist anymore, the sunset-into-twilight sky didn't exist anymore, the world didn't exist anymore, it was just their passion and the light of their love.

And when they came together, Sören wept with the intensity of their release, euphoria like he'd never known before, exquisite joy. _We belong._

Sören passed out and had to be dressed, and carried into the back of the jeep. He had a moment of waking up to giggle at it - he still felt like he was made of jelly and couldn't remember his name, let alone move his limbs - and then he dozed off again. He came to just as they were pulling into the hotel parking lot, and Sören leaned on Maglor as they walked in behind Dooku, who mentioned the room he'd booked, and the concierge gave them a strange look - it was 2020, but three men sharing a king bed was still perhaps not the most common thing - before handing over the key.

They unloaded, and Dooku promptly ordered room service. As they waited, the three cuddled, and Sören made a purring noise of contentment.

But when room service arrived with dinner, the cozy, all-is-right-with-the-world feeling shoved off for a moment, replaced by a note of concern. _Shit got real,_ Sören thought to himself, looking over at the satchel where the Silmarils were carefully hidden. It was one thing to have one Silmaril, another thing to have to, what now that he had all three? Edenel and Kol had seemed very insistent that Sören needed to find those again, in a way that went above and beyond the fact that they belonged to him, as Fëanor. Why?

_Where do we go from here?_

Sören tried to push that concern aside as he enjoyed an assortment of fish, delicately seasoned with salt, pepper, and herbs. _Let's just get through the Dagorath, whenever that comes._ He looked out at the window, at the mountain view, and said a silent prayer for Edenel, Kol and Vanimórë. _Please be all right. Come back to me._


	10. Celebration Time

**Celebration Time**

The next morning Sören woke up to Dooku petting him and Maglor raining kisses over his face. Sören stretched with a lazy grin on his face, kissed Maglor back and then kissed Dooku.

"We gonna order room service, get breakfast?" Sören asked with a yawn.

"Right now," Dooku rasped, "it is you I want to eat."

Dooku kissed Sören again, harder. They kissed and kissed, and Maglor slid into position to worship their bodies, a hand on each of them, caressing, his lips and tongue playing over one then the other, exploring, teasing, loving. At last Dooku and Sören rolled into the sixty-nine position, sucking each other greedily, and Maglor took Sören from behind, Sören crying out around the cock in his mouth as his prostate and cock were pleasured at the same time, tension building and building until at last Sören shattered, flooding Dooku's mouth with a whimper, and was rewarded a few seconds later with Dooku's seed in his mouth and Maglor's seed rushing into him. Sören swallowed and licked Dooku clean, groaning with soul-deep satisfaction at that feeling of both his lovers coming at the same time.

They tangled up together and at last Dooku ordered room service. Sören and Maglor showered together, kissing, and they were once again hard, rubbing their cocks together as they sensually lathered each other and Sören lovingly shampooed the flood of Maglor's hair. Maglor took both their cocks into his hand, and pushed Sören up against the wall, kissing him even more hungrily as he stroked them to climax, seed spilling down the drain.

After breakfast they dressed, checked out of the hotel, and got back on the road. It was a beautiful crisp, sunny morning - a little chilly, but not unpleasant, not that the cold affected Sören and Dooku the way it once did. Sören wanted to see the waterfalls one last time, so when they got to that point on the road, Maglor pulled the superjeep over and they stopped at the Seljalandsfoss waterfall. Sören splashed around near the falls again, and then he shook onto Maglor and Dooku like a wet dog, laughing at their annoyed-yet-amused reactions.

It was at the smaller and less visited Gljúfrabúi, however, where the real magic happened. As Sören watched the bottom of the falls pour into the pool from the gorge, he found himself getting naked, and he went out to the pool. He splashed ice-cold water on himself, like a cleansing ritual. When he came back, he used the Force to open the satchel that Dooku was holding for him, and out came the Silmarils. They floated in the air, lighting up the walls of the gorge like they were inside a crystal made of rainbow, lighting up the waterfall and the pool like the water was made of rainbow.

Sören, Maglor, and Dooku fell on each other again, much as they had at the volcano yesterday, making love in the cavern. Sören was open and ready from that morning, and like last night, he took them both inside himself again, desperate and needy for it. Unlike last night, this time he faced Dooku, with Maglor holding him from behind. Sören and Dooku kissed deeply, Sören's fingers playing in Dooku's chest hair, stroking his beard, running through the fur on his arms. They looked into each other's eyes, and the light from the Silmarils made Dooku's eyes sparkle like chocolate diamonds, which brought to mind the days of Fingolfin and his star-blue eyes. His beloved brother-lover wore a different skin these days, but Sören still found him magnificent, the "daddy" that he'd needed for so long. And the heart burned true, Sören feeling with each thrust, each kiss, how much Dooku-Fingolfin loved him, was proud of him, felt the _sacredness_ in what they were doing now.

Towards the finish, Maglor's arms encircled them both. Maglor leaned over Sören's shoulder to kiss Dooku, then tilted Sören's face to his and kissed him with all the fire of his being. Sören reached and wound an arm around Maglor's head, his other arm around Dooku.

"I love you," Sören husked. "Now and always."

And then Sören rode harder, faster, cries echoing in the rock. Dooku and Maglor's voices joined his, rising together. The Silmarils seemed to burn brighter, hotter, responding to their passion. And once again, enveloped in pure white light, Sören shattered, screaming, a scream that echoed into the falls and boulders they flowed between, into the sky. He felt like he was burning up, but there was no pain, only joy. As he drifted down from his climax, there was no worry about anything at all.

"I don't ever want to leave this cave," Sören mumbled.

But of course, they had to. They changed back into their wet clothes, then they changed into something dry when they left the falls, crossing back through the highlands. Sören giggled at the absurdity of getting naked to put on dry clothes right there in the middle of the green fields, and in a moment of mischief he bent over and stuck his naked ass in the air - the hole used, pooling his lovers' seed - and he shouted, "HEY! ODIN! FUCK YOU!" Followed by "THAT GOES DOUBLE FOR YOU, MANWË!"

Dooku turned beetroot and facepalmed, looking scandalized, and yet he couldn't help shaking with silent laughter. Maglor patted Sören's shoulder once he was fully dressed, kissed his cheek, and said, "Don't ever change, Ada."

Yet, once they were in Reykjavik and on their way to the airport, Sören's joy and post-orgasmic, post-Silmaril-finding swagger came crashing down. He thought of his ex Justin, all the insults, the gratuitous cruelty. He thought of Einar and Katrín, much the same from them. And the bullies he'd went to school with, who'd tormented him for being different even without knowing Sören could use the Force, Sören had once been an elven king in his past life. For all the love and acceptance that Sören had now, for most of his life it hadn't been so. He had been lonely, and very much alone. That he was cursed by gods who hated him seemed to just add to the feeling that maybe there _was_ something wrong with him.

As the plane took off and Sören watched it rising, rising, from the window, Sören felt a tightness in his throat and his chest, the concept of rising - ascending - exposing a secret fear in him. That Kol and Edenel and Vanimórë wouldn't come back and it would have nothing to do with the Dagorath. That being around Elves, their own kind - ascended Elves, made gods - they wouldn't _want_ to come back to Sören and Dooku, because, even though they were immortal now, they were still human. That being around their own kind would make them feel like Sören and Dooku were inferior substitutes, impostors, not good enough, not worthy of them.

As much as Sören hated even wondering this, he speculated, briefly, if he had been lied to the way Maglor had lied to him in 2014, saying he was going off to an arranged marriage when it was in fact escaping Sören's mortality, all too real after he almost drowned then had walking pneumonia. It was a different situation here but Sören couldn't help wondering if there even was a Dagor Dagorath on the way, or if Kol and Edenel and Vanimórë hadn't just said that to get away from Sören. _What am I, compared to them. Me and my sad, pathetic little life._

Back in Akureyri, Sören's mood had shifted enough from joyous and celebratory to pensive and somber, that Maglor noticed when they were driving to Svalbarðseyri to pick up Huan, Snuður, Rasputin and Pumpkin from Vigdís and Páll. Maglor raised an eyebrow at Sören in the rear-view mirror and Sören said nothing, and Maglor gave him a stern look. He let it go while they picked up the animals, and Sören made plans for Vigdís and Páll, and their two young children Solveig and Sigurjón to come over on Thursday night for dinner. But as soon as they drove past Sören's old residence and Sören let out a shuddery sigh, Maglor said, his voice firm and unyielding, " _Sören._ What is it."

Sören shrugged.

Maglor gave a little growl.

Once they were back at their house, Maglor marched Sören into the studio room to have a private talk with him.

"It's something," Maglor said.

"It's something," Sören admitted. He nodded and let out a sharp exhale. "I worried that Kol, Edenel, and Van... well... just wanted to get away from me."

" _What._ "

Sören looked down at the floor.

"Sören, no. First of all, they wouldn't have even bothered to say goodbye if that was the case - they wouldn't have even bothered to _meet you_ if that was the case. Let alone do... things." Maglor's cheeks flushed, and Sören could see across their bond for a moment that he was thinking about Sören having sex with Vanimórë. Then Maglor folded his arms and glowered - it would be impressively frightening if Sören didn't find it so sexy. "And second of all, Sören, you were _right there_ when Gandalf said the Dagorath was coming, eventually. We've _all_ felt little disturbances in the Force, like the days are growing darker and it has nothing to do with winter. So it's not bullshit. And I don't think that your own uncle would have lied to you like that, besides."

"OK." Sören wasn't entirely convinced, but he felt at least a little better.

"But Sören, I have to ask, what brought this on?"

Sören looked away. "I have the Silmarils and I... well... my brain is being a massive dick to me. Reminding me I'm not who I used to be, what I once was, and that I'm probably a massive disappointment to Kol and Edenel and Van." Sören looked Maglor in the eye. "Probably to you too."

"Oh for fuck's _sake_ , Sören." Maglor glared, but there were tears in his eyes now. "Yeah, Sören, you're such a disappointment. That's why I want to make love to you constantly and love spending time with you. _Do you not see how much sense you're not making right now?_ "

"I know that you've been away from your people a long time," Sören said. "And I know that when you've been starving for a long time, even crumbs seem like a feast. When you and I were separated, years ago, that's how I ended up with Justin Roberts. Shitty as he was. Because at least I wasn't alone -"

Maglor's voice rang out as many voices at once, his eyes wild, flashing with fury. " _ **You will not compare what I have with you to what you had with Justin Roberts. You will not compare yourself to Justin Roberts. I will not hear it. I. Will. Not.**_ "

After a moment, Sören let out a deep sigh. "OK, maybe that was a bad analogy -"

"That was worse than a bad analogy." Maglor's eyes challenged his. "Sören, this entire way of thinking is so wrong that you are not even wrong. And to some extent I get it. I get it that you've had people telling you that you're nothing, nobody, your entire life, and it's very hard to fight past that. You have all three of the Silmarils now, and it should be a momentous, joyous thing, and it was - and now you feel like you're not worthy, and worse than that, like the Elves in your life see you as some discount knockoff of Fëanor. But I don't see you that way."

"Maybe you don't. And again, you've been without your people for so long that maybe you're willing to accept -"

"The only thing I am willing to accept, Sören Sigurdsson, is that I love you. _You._ Do you think I am superficial and shallow? The Flame is the Flame is the Flame, whether you are an Elf or a human or... whatever."

"So you'd love me if I was a horse? Or a car?"

"Sören, I'm being serious!"

"So am I!"

There was a long silence. Maglor looked down, looking as if he'd been wounded, trying not to cry, but at last something in him broke and the tears came slowly, quietly. "Sören, answer me one thing. If this was Nicolae standing in your shoes right now, telling you everything you just told me, would you tell him he was 'inferior' and 'pathetic'? Would you say it to Frankie?"

"Well, no -"

"You surely remember, now, what Fingolfin was like. As do I. And yet you still want Nicolae. You still love him. You would die for him, if it came to that. Why is it that you can accept him as he is now, and you won't show the same respect for yourself?"

"I can't answer that, except with a question of my own - if you could turn back the clock, if you had to choose between continuing to go on with us as we are now, OR having Fëanor and Fingolfin back exactly as you remember them, or even more glorious, as gods, but that meant me and Nico would cease to exist as we are - you wouldn't even have the memory of this time with us... what would you choose? Honestly?"

Maglor didn't answer that right away, and Sören spat out, "I thought so," and began storming off.

"Sören, you didn't even give me a chance to answer that." Maglor started chasing after him. "That's a complex question and I needed time to gather my words -"

"Sure." Sören started putting on his boots.

"Where do you think you're going?" Dooku walked towards him, his arms folded.

" _Out._ " With that, Sören stepped outside and slammed the door behind him.

Maglor tried to follow, looking absolutely livid, and after a few paces Sören whirled around and screamed, "GET THEE GONE!"

Maglor looked stricken, and Sören knew then that he'd crossed a line. And part of him felt terrible, part of him wanted to rush back, apologize, take Maglor into his arms and soothe him.

But right now he was all pride - what was left of his pride, what pride he could be allowed in this life, broken and hurting as he was. And in the storm of his anger he kept walking, and walking, and walking, not walking _to_ anywhere in particular, just needing to get the hell away from that house, that life.

He found himself in a park, finally, sitting down on a bench, and he buried his face in his hands and tried to not break down crying in public, especially not with children playing so close by. The last light of day washed gold over the park, and Sören watched the beginnings of the sunset, and it seemed to him that he had entered a sort of sunset in his life as he knew it. A lot had changed over the last year, and a lot was going to change over the next few years. How, he didn't know. He just knew that there was too much happening at once, and he felt like he'd been thrown into something he hadn't entirely signed up for. But what was certain was that he needed Maglor with him as it happened, and he was terrified that Maglor would once again leave him, this time to cross universes to find his kind and go be with them.

Just as he was leaving the park, he saw Maglor pull up in his jeep. Sören's cell phone went off, and Maglor just sat there, glaring at him as he let it ring, as if to say _you can't escape, I know that's you._

Sören reluctantly got in the jeep. After a few minutes of stony silence, Sören said, "How did you know I was here?"

"Because I could feel you." And a moment later, Maglor added, "And because even when _you_ don't know where you're going, I still know. You seek out green places, parks, gardens." His voice was soft. "I know you. You've always been this way, Ada."

Sören broke down. Maglor pulled over and pulled him close, held him tight, rocked him. "Do you understand now, you stubborn... fucking..." Maglor's eyes were fierce, even as his touch was gentle as he stroked Sören's face, pet his curls. " _This_ is what I love." Maglor put his hand on Sören's heart. And for a moment, he reached into Sören's mind and let him hear Sören's place in the Song... and the way it was a "remix" of Fëanor's place... the same yet different. And he loved it, just as he loved the original. It also blended better where Maglor's own place in the Song had changed over time.

"If this had been years ago, I might have answered your question differently," Maglor said. "But as you are now... you fit me better, as I am now. I have changed as well. Even if I could go back to the way things were... well, this is the way things are. You and Nicolae are my home now, not some distant past that grows more distant all the time. Was it a tragedy to lose what I had, in the past? I won't lie and say it's not. But it would be a tragedy to lose you, too. I love you, as you are. My adorable little Sören." He booped Sören's nose.

Sören kissed him. He still wasn't completely convinced by Maglor's answer - he was at that place inside his own issues that he wasn't sure anything was the right answer, that anything could convince him. But for now, he wasn't going to fight.

"Come on, Adar." Maglor let him go so he could drive. "Let's go home."

_

After dinner, Sören and Maglor went to walk Huan, as they did. Maglor could tell Sören still was down in the dumps, and partway through their walk he just stopped and gave Sören a big hug.

Then, when they resumed walking, Maglor said, "I'm about to suggest something you won't like, and it would be remiss of me not to suggest it anyway."

Sören grasped at levity. "Hi About To Suggest Something You Won't Like -"

Maglor glared. " _Adar._ "

Sören elbowed him, and with an exaggerated sigh, tousling Sören's curls, Maglor went on. "I think you ought to take all of next week off from the studio. And I will too."

Sören gave him a look. "Oh, come on -"

"No, listen. Today was..." Maglor pinched the bridge of his nose. "With the train of thought that you had, earlier, you're in a _really_ bad place, mentally."

"Which is exactly why I should push myself, and not sit at home, moping -"

"Which is exactly why you'll fall apart in front of your class again. Sören, I don't want to be an ass to you and sound patronizing. But I really think you're too stressed out right now to have your studio open. You need a mental health week. The last time you took a vacation, apart from the holidays last year, was when we went to Scotland a year ago for you to see your aunts. I won't count when you went to Canada to see Dag and your nieces when they were born back in March because that was just a weekend which you take off anyway. So you're overdue. And it's Sunday night, so if the studio isn't going to open tomorrow you need to get on making an announcement. And I'd really, really rather you take a week off."

Sören considered, and finally, he simply nodded. "Fine, you win."

He didn't feel great about closing the studio for a week, and he couldn't shake the feeling as he typed up the announcement and sent out the e-mail that he was setting a bad precedent - he had the briefest frisson, the feeling of apprehension that the studio was never going to open again. Which seemed ridiculous. But then, he'd also felt like he'd seen Reynisfjara for the last time...

Sören couldn't get to sleep right away that night, feeling restless. He took Huan for another walk in the middle of the night, hoping to tire himself out some, which worked a little bit, and when he got inside he took out the pouch of Silmarils and opened it. He used the Force to push them a few feet away from him and each within a few feet of the other so they weren't all glaring in his eyes, but the effect was still like he'd turned on a lamp in the room. He watched them rotate, slowly, sparkling rainbows onto the walls.

_I made these, long ago, and they knew they were mine. I'm still Fëanor on the inside and that should be what matters._

But he still felt like he was cheating Maglor, somehow, and for an instant he felt like it would be more fair if he ceased to exist and then "Real Fëanor" could be resurrected from the Halls of Mandos, restored to his former glory.

And he knew that, if Dooku were saying this about Fingolfin, he'd have a problem with it. Dooku wasn't simply "good enough" for him, Dooku was the love of his life.

Snuður got on Sören's lap, purring loudly, and when Sören lay back on the couch, Snuður climbed onto Sören's chest, kneading and purring as if he sensed distress and was trying to make Sören feel better. Sören used the Force to push the Silmarils back in the pouch but he kept one peeking out slightly, glowing like an extra-bright nightlight, and he pet the cat, eyes getting heavy.

_

"Beautiful."

Sören opened his eyes and saw himself laying on the grass of a garden. Fëanor was hovering over him, looking him over. Sören looked around at the plants and flowers in the garden, thinking Fëanor had to be talking about something else, but then he said, "You, silly."

Sören didn't know what to make of Fëanor calling him beautiful, especially after his earlier angst over not feeling good enough for any of this. He sat up, and Fëanor sank down, offering him a cup of wine. Sören mumbled his thanks as he sipped, and couldn't help staring at Fëanor - the chiseled yet sultry, sensuous beauty so like Maglor's, the diamond eyes, the silky blue-black hair to his knees, the pointed ears, his pale skin glowing like a lamp, radiating power and _presence_ , like standing next to a flame. He couldn't help staring at the Silmarils burning on Fëanor's crown, even more perfect than diamonds.

"You can touch it, you know," Fëanor said, and took off the crown and handed it to Sören. "They're yours too."

Sören remembered that the last time he'd visited Fëanor here - over a year ago, when Sören drank the blood that granted him immortality, and had fever dreams - Fëanor had put the crown on his head. But now Fëanor waited as if he expected Sören to put the crown on his head himself. And after Sören spent a moment tracing the cut of the jewels with his finger, he did that, and Fëanor smiled, satisfied. "Good. There's hope for you yet, I suppose."

Sören gave him a look. He wondered how much, if anything, the ascended Fëanor of the Timeless Halls knew of Sören's earlier conversation with Maglor. And that pang of _jealousy_ Sören had felt towards the ascended, glorious Fëanor, feeling so inadequate in comparison. The look Fëanor gave him as he wore the crown suggested Fëanor knew enough, and that was why his dreams led him here, when he had not in fact visited Fëanor since those dreams over a year ago.

"You said you were going to come, you know," Fëanor said.

"I did. A lot has happened."

"You had time. Now there is even less time."

"The Dagorath hasn't happened yet?..."

"No, not yet. Soon. Very soon." Fëanor pursed his lips. "They weren't lying to you. It is coming."

"Oh, _Jesus_..." _He did hear that._

"Jesus isn't here. It's just me and my family, I'm afraid."

_I'm a shit in every universe._ Sören facepalmed, and then Fëanor took Sören's hand away and kissed it. Then he pulled Sören close to him and kissed his mouth, their lips parting, tongues swirling, lashing, teasing.

When they pulled apart, Sören was a little breathless, and felt too hot. Fëanor smiled at him, a look of mischief and lust in his eyes. He took the crown from Sören and said, "I have something for you. I'd been waiting for you to find the three Silmarils, before I'd give it to you."

"Oh."

"You should come see me," Fëanor said. "In the flesh. Take the Portal."

That meant the Dimmuborgir. That meant potentially incurring the wrath of Charlie and whatever MI6 agent had intercepted a Portal sighting in England. But it was the middle of the night and no one was likely to be around at this hour.

Fëanor rose to his feet and pulled Sören up with him. They kissed again, and then Fëanor stroked Sören's face and husked, "Go on, then. Bring the Silmarils, and yourself. We will light one last fire before I face the Dark."


	11. Timeless

**Timeless**

  
  
  
In the middle of the night, Sören wrote a note to Maglor and Dooku letting them know where he was going. Then, with the Silmarils in their pouch, Sören slipped out, got in the jeep, and drove to the Dimmuborgir, in silence.  
  
On the way there he thought about calling Charlie Audley just to be on the safe side - he could virtually guarantee there would be no one out there right now, at this time of night in October, but he didn't know how long he'd be gone, and if there would be tourists or wandering locals there when he returned. He was going to take the chance that he'd probably be gone for just a few hours his time - that it would feel like longer, where he was going, but not necessarily _be_ longer - and that the Dimmuborgir would still be quiet early on a Monday. That felt right, intuitively, and so there was no need to bother Charlie at two in the morning over this.  
  
As importantly, his destination was somewhere that didn't even exist on Earth, and he didn't want to explain to Charlie that was where he was going - and she would certainly demand to know where he was going. He knew Charlie and her agents, like whichever one had intervened when they'd been spotted using a Portal in England a week ago, had figured out about the Portals, how they could be used to get between different points on Earth without flying. But he knew they probably didn't know they could also be used to go between different versions of Earth in other universes, even places that existed in the legends of men, like Asgard, Tír na nÓg, Annwyn, possibly even Valinor... and now, too, the Timeless Halls, the place Vanimórë had given the Elves he'd resurrected in his universe of origin, who had thrown down the Valar and ascended... an abode of gods. Sören didn't want to explain to Charlie, _All the myths of men are at least partially true, the gods are real._ That was even more brain-breaking, life-shattering than knowing a small percentage of humans could move things with their mind without touching them, read thoughts, and the like... even more devastating than knowing there were at least a few non-humans walking among humans and pretending to be them, who had been alive since before recorded time.  
  
Sören had been warned about using the Portal unless he had a clear idea of where he was going, so he didn't end up lost in another universe. He felt a touch of hesitation as he got out of the jeep, looking out at the black lava formation, eerie in the starlight. The two times he'd dreamt of the Timeless Halls would have to be enough. He strode across the field like he was going off to battle - not that he had anything to fear from the ascended Fëanor. It was his own fear he was battling with, using the Portal by himself and hoping he'd actually get to where he was going... and it was his shame. He thought of his earlier conversation with Maglor, that feeling that he wasn't good enough for the Elves he knew and loved. Now he was going to be meeting with at least one Elf... an Elf who was a god. He felt unworthy, he felt unclean, he felt little and stupid and broken. _I am nothing, compared to who I once was._ He knew that was unfair - he sensed no deceit in Maglor when Maglor confessed he loved Sören as he was now, and he didn't think Dooku should obliterate himself to bring back Fingolfin, Frankie to bring back Lalwen. He loved them as they were, now - he had loved them before he knew who they were, who he was, any of this, and he loved them even more now that he knew they had been lost and found again. He was being a sort of hypocrite to not show himself the same respect. But he felt it just the same, hearing Justin's words, Einar's. _You are nobody, nothing._ There were gods who cursed his very existence. Why should it be any different with these gods?  
  
 _I should ask Fëanor to kill me so this world's Fëanor can be resurrected._  
  
He took a deep breath as he approached the arch, which was already starting to glow in anticipation. He froze in his tracks, heart pounding - it was one thing to have taken the Portal with Vanimórë, with Dooku, another thing to take it all by himself. _What if I get lost?_  
  
And then, again, the sting of shame of earlier. _I am already lost._  
  
With that he ran, not allowing himself any more hesitation. Running underneath the arch felt like a massive dose of static cling. His hair stood on end and he felt little sparks over his body. And then it felt like he was trapped inside a furnace, everything went white, cyan, ultraviolet, and it was like being in an elevator that was going down, down, down, faster than any car he'd ever been in, any amusement park ride he'd ever been on. His gut lurched and he shook, almost falling over, nothing to grab onto.  
  
"Oh god," Sören gasped out. He was hyperventilating, and restrained the urge to scream. "Oh god oh god oh _god_..." He closed his eyes, and that still didn't help. He was about to cry -  
  
And then just like that it was done. He felt like something gave him a shove, and he staggered out into what looked like sunlight, through an arch into a beautiful garden full of flowers and exotic plants and trees. He could faintly hear birdsong. A butterfly flittered past him, its wings brilliant blue.  
  
All the colors were brilliant - super-saturated, something that had sometimes factored into Sören's work to give it a surreal, dreamlike, "elsewhere" quality. This was definitely elsewhere - it seemed to Sören that there were shades of colors that didn't even exist on Earth, greens greener, pinks and purples and blues and golds more rich than anything he'd ever seen...  
  
...and then, meters away, under the shade of a tree that looked like a willow, but flowering with delicate white blooms, he saw them.  
  
Fëanor was laying on his back in the grass, naked except for the crown of Silmarils. He clutched two heads to his chest - one dark, one fair, each with a flood of hair to their knees, each with the lean, hard, sleek bodies of warriors, as naked as he was, glowing - the light in the garden was from the three of them. As Sören walked closer, he saw that the dark-haired one was Fingolfin, and he would have assumed the fair one was Glorfindel except the hair was not gold... it was silver-gold.  
  
Fingolfin and Finarfin were sucking Fëanor's nipples at the same time, making him writhe, pant, gasp, cry out. Their tongues lashed, teasing the peaks, before they suckled some more, Fëanor moaning, bucking against them. He was hard, and so were they. Fingolfin and Finarfin kissed their way up, then, each claiming a shoulder, a side of Fëanor's neck. Fingolfin cupped Fëanor's chin in his hand, star-blue eyes hot like fire, a seductive smile on his face, and he traced Fëanor's lips with his thumb before kissing him. Finarfin watched with a soft moan, a louder moan when Fëanor and Fingolfin's tongues played together between kisses, before kissing again, more deeply this time. Then Fëanor gave Finarfin a look that could melt metal, and with a shy, sweet smile that took Sören's breath away, Finarfin leaned in for a kiss. He was anything but shy in that kiss, grabbing Fëanor and kissing him hungrily, Fëanor moaning into the kiss, trembling against him. Fingolfin leaned down to lick the drops of precum flowing from Fëanor's cock and Finarfin's cock in turn, and Fëanor and Finarfin both gasped before kissing again, even more fiercely, deeply, one hand exploring each other, the other hands grabbing Fingolfin's hair together.  
  
Sören watched Fingolfin collecting precum on his tongue and he rose up to kiss Fëanor again, both men groaning into the kiss, and then Fingolfin turned to Finarfin, stroked his face tenderly, and they nuzzled for a moment, smiling, before they kissed as well. Fëanor let out a deep groan of satisfaction as he watched his brothers kiss. "Exquisite," he breathed.  
  
 _You're goddamn right._ "Fuck," Sören said under his breath, his cock straining his jeans uncomfortably.  
  
Fingolfin and Finarfin stopped kissing, and the eyes of all three Finwion brothers were on him. "Er," Sören said.  
  
"Well, look who it is." Fëanor grinned, and stood - cock still standing at attention. He walked over to Sören, magnificent and powerful, and Sören's first impulse was to run, once again feeling unworthy, but he couldn't stop staring at the beautiful, naked Fëanor - or his beautiful, naked brothers sitting in the distance, watching with amusement. "Greetings, Sören."  
  
"Hi," Sören said, running a nervous hand through his curls.  
  
Fëanor took Sören's hand and led him along. "You brought the Silmarils, as I told you?"  
  
Sören nodded and patted the pouch in his jacket pocket. He pulled out the pouch, feeling it thrum in his hand, and then he used the Force to open it, to nudge the Silmarils out, floating in the air.  
  
All three Finwion brothers were surrounding him now - Sören felt slightly uneasy, like he had been surrounded by a pack of wolves. Then Fëanor looked at Fingolfin and Finarfin, who gave a nod, and each of them grabbed a Silmaril.  
  
"We, the sons of Finwë, hallow these Silmarils anew," Fëanor intoned. "Blessed are you, Sören-Fëanor, blessed is your house, your family. We three curse the Valar of your world, and all that stand against you. May the power of these gems serve you well in the quest before you, to reclaim what is rightfully yours." Their eyes met. "And mine. All of the Fëanors, all of the Sörens, of every world, every time, every place, as above, so below."  
  
With that, their energy combined - the pure, raw wildfire of Fëanor, the sea-of-stars of Fingolfin, the golden dawn of Finarfin. Light played upon light, the white-rainbow stones now flickering with each display of power, like watching space in the _palantir_ but so much more. Sören felt like he couldn't breathe, enveloped in fractals, color, heat, and he dropped to his knees in awe and terror, trembling, weeping at the beauty of it, the power that could destroy him but instead embraced him, soothed him, feeding the Flame Imperishable that lived in his own spirit.  
  
The light faded then, and he was held by the three Finwions, Finarfin petting his curls, Fingolfin stroking his face, Fëanor's hand on his chin, lifting it up, imploring him to look up rather than look down. He waved his hand, and something silver - but brighter than silver - floated towards them. It looked like a crown as it came closer, and when it alighted in Fëanor's hand, Sören saw that was exactly what it was. A tiara, specifically, the metal finely etched with floral scrollwork, and there was a setting for three jewels sized exactly to the Silmarils. The jewels fell into place then and bonded.  
  
Fingolfin and Finarfin made short work of undressing Sören, so he was as naked as they were, and then Fëanor put the tiara on top of Sören's head.  
  
"For you," he said. "I made this for you in anticipation of you claiming them."  
  
"I..." Sören swallowed hard, tears burning his eyes. "Thank you." He found himself taking Fëanor's hands then and kissing them - even as part of him felt unworthy to touch, he nonetheless couldn't help it. Fëanor smiled at him adoringly and put his hands on the sides of Sören's face.  
  
"So that is what you had to give me?" Sören asked.  
  
"It's a start." Fëanor's lips quirked. "Now, for a bit of celebration."  
  
Somehow, a delicate, exquisite choker of iridescent cream pearls, with little diamonds spaced between, was in Finarfin's hand... and a length of the same sort of pearls and diamonds. It was like something out of the painting Sören had made of himself and Maglor years ago, but more beautiful in-person. Wordlessly, Finarfin clasped the collar around Sören's neck, and then clipped the matching leash through it, and he gestured for Sören to rise, with a tug on the leash.  
  
Once Sören was on his feet, Fingolfin came closer - heat in those blue eyes, sending a chill down Sören's spine, his cock throbbing - and Fingolfin pulled Sören against him and leaned in to kiss him hard. Sören moaned into the kiss, quivering, and moaned louder as Fingolfin's hands ran over him. Fingolfin then just looked into Sören's eyes for a moment, stroking his cheek, and Sören could feel there was love there, not just lust.  
  
Finarfin pulled Sören to him now, and kissed Sören, making Sören tremble, knees almost buckling. Finarfin's fingers teasingly brushed a nipple, then the head of Sören's cock, then walked back up over his stomach, his chest, to tug on a nipple ring, just as Finarfin took a lick at Sören's neck, then _bit_ , making Sören gasp and cry out, almost coming just from that.  
  
Fëanor chuckled and patted his youngest brother, affectionately tousling the silver-gold mane. "Now now, Arafinwë, don't be greedy. We have to let the young ones feast first." He kissed Sören now, as gentle as his brothers had been fierce, yet with a wicked look in his eye that suggested he would indeed be fierce himself later. He walked Sören on the leash to the tree that he and his brothers had been making love underneath, and he had Sören kneel, and tied the leash to the tree. Then he led his brothers away, arm in arm, but paused to call out over his shoulder, "Have fun, dear," before they disappeared into the hedge.  
  
Sören waited, feeling a touch nervous - and frustrated, his cock hard, aching, already leaking precum.  
  
  
_  
  
  
After a few minutes that felt like an eternity to his raging libido, he saw two figures approaching. As they came closer, his breath hitched at the sight of them, more beautiful than anything he could paint, anything he could dream of.  
  
One had blue-black hair to his knees, the same star-blue eyes of Fingolfin, and bore a striking resemblance to Fingolfin, yet not exactly alike. The other was the spitting image of Maglor - himself the spitting image of Fëanor - and with the same silver-mirror eyes... but his hair was bronze.  
  
Sören had never seen them before, but he _knew_ them.  
  
"Gil-Galad," he whispered as they came closer. "Tindómion."  
  
In and of itself it would have been momentous - Gil-Galad the legendary hero, and Tindómion the son of Maglor, the grandson of Fëanor. But it was all the more poignant knowing Tindómion was one of his _blood ancestors_ , the "one drop" of Elven blood needed for some of the House of Finwë to be reborn as mortals. In the 1600s he had come to Iceland - on record as having come from Norway, but only Tindómion himself knew the truth of whether or not he'd been in Norway before that - and taken a mortal wife, had a single son...  
  
...had been burned as a witch. Sören's heart broke all over again, tears filling his eyes. He remembered the story Dag told him as he researched the family tree... how "Tindri Magnússon" had used Elven magic to save his wife's family during an epidemic, and was repaid by being accused of witchcraft, and the Church had found the pointy ears...  
  
"Sören," Tindómion breathed, looking as in awe of the immortal human on his knees, as Sören felt looking up and up and up at the Elf-god. He untied the leash from the tree and had Sören rise to his feet. He spent a moment just looking at Sören before he stroked Sören's face, the same look of love-lust in his eyes that Sören recognized from Maglor. "My blood."  
  
"My blood. My ancestor." Sören reached out to touch him, caress the hard, sculpted body - once again not feeling worthy, once again not able to help it. His cock twinged as he felt Tindómion respond to his touch, quivering.  
  
"I had seen you in the Portal," Tindómion husked, "and in the Mirror..."  
  
"Mirror?" Sören was confused.  
  
Tindómion and Gil-Galad exchanged glances, Gil-Galad giving him a look as if to say "not now", and Tindómion said to Sören, "In due time." He pet Sören's curls, stroked his beard, traced his lips, and then his fingers walked down Sören's throat, to rest on his heart. "You are even more beautiful in person."  
  
Sören laughed and cried all at once. "No. _You_ are beautiful." He played with a lock of Tindómion's hair, reached up to stroke his face - then reached for Gil-Galad in turn, stroking his hair, hands sliding over the warrior's body. "You both... are so magnificent that the word 'beautiful' is not even adequate to describe you. No words are."  
  
Tindómion and Gil-Galad's arms were encircling him now, and Tindómion kissed him, then Gil-Galad kissed him. Sören melted into each kiss, cock throbbing urgently - even his hole was twitching now, _wanting_ them. He could feel their power, like silver flame, like silver starlight, like the echo of a song. He could feel their love, their acceptance, and as much as Sören wanted, those issues from earlier in the day came roaring forth.  
  
"I'm so sorry," Sören choked out through his tears. "In my world you were burned as a witch, and that was horrible and I just..." He sobbed. "Coming to Iceland, planting the seed of my bloodline, you died and I live and that isn't fair, it's not _worth it_ , my life is not worth yours, you are worth so much more, I would die to bring you back..."  
  
Tindómion gave Sören a fierce, stern look - so very like Maglor's when angry. Sören could _feel_ the anger rising in him, the urge to kill, to destroy - not Sören, but anyone and everyone who had made him feel like this, right now. And then Tindómion crushed Sören against him, kissed him breathless with a _growl_ that made Sören break out into gooseflesh, made his cock jolt, which Gil-Galad cupped and stroked idly.  
  
"I think," Tindómion rasped, "that lovely mouth of yours protests too much, and there are better uses for it."  
  
With that, Tindómion pushed Sören onto his knees, and tugged the leash to bring Sören closer. He guided his large, hard cock to Sören's lips, and Sören obediently took it into his mouth - hungrily, sucking hard and fast like he'd been starving for it, like he'd been longing for Tindómion his entire life without knowing it. With the leash wrapped around his hand, Tindómion clutched Sören's head and groaned.  
  
Just the act of sucking Tindómion's cock had Sören right on that edge, close to climax, not ready to give in yet. Watching Tindómion and Gil-Galad kiss was devastatingly erotic, Sören whimpering around the cock in his mouth, not able to help stroking himself. His body shook, frantic with need, and when Sören gave another whine, Tindómion chuckled and said to Gil-Galad, "I think our little flame needs some relief."  
  
"I would be happy to oblige him." Gil-Galad looked at Sören, giving him a dazzling smile - Sören looked up at him adoringly - and Gil-Galad affectionately tousled Sören's curls.  
  
Then Gil-Galad got behind Sören, positioning Sören on all fours. He pushed oil-slick fingers into Sören and began kissing his way down from Sören's neck, down his spine. The fingers of Gil-Galad's free hand traced the ink on Sören's back, and that touch felt like fire, like he was setting the firebirds on fire, searing his skin. Sören shivered and moaned around Tindómion's cock.  
  
And at last, Gil-Galad knelt behind him and pushed into him. Sören cried out when Gil-Galad was buried to the hilt, and again when Gil-Galad began to thrust.  
  
Gil-Galad's hands playing over him, the magnificent long, thick cock rubbing that sweet spot inside him just right, as Sören gazed upon Tindómion's beauty, feasted on the luscious cock in his mouth... this was heaven, to Sören. As badly as he needed to come, he wanted to suspend time and make love with them like this forever. It didn't just feel good, it wasn't just electrifyingly erotic, but Sören felt like he was being _loved_ , and he loved them in turn. They were expressing love, like this. It wasn't just physical, wasn't just bodies, but it was souls, it was honoring who they were, what they'd done, where they'd been, and they were honoring him in turn.  
  
Gil-Galad leaned down over Sören, his fingers playing with Sören's nipple rings, the ring in the head of Sören's cock. "Beautiful," he husked in Sören's ear, before kissing Sören's jaw, his neck. "So tempting to keep you here, with us, to feast upon night after night."  
  
Sören moaned around the cock in his mouth. He took it out and licked it, worshiped it with his tongue, teased it, delighting in the way Tindómion gasped, panted, quivered, lost in the throes of passion - responding so much like his father. Sören made a show of lapping up the delicious precum, making streamers with his tongue, and then Gil-Galad turned Sören's head so they could kiss, so he could taste his lover on Sören's tongue.  
  
And then both of them were lapping Tindómion's cock, and Sören liked that even more. His own cock throbbed as he felt Tindómion's cock pulse beneath his tongue. Sören and Gil-Galad lapped up more precum with their tongues and shared it between them, kissing, tongues licking between kisses; Sören sucked Gil-Galad's tongue and Gil-Galad moaned. So did Tindómion, watching them.  
  
Sören took Tindómion's cock back in his mouth then, and Gil-Galad nibbled on Sören's neck as he thrust harder, faster, their hips slapping together, Gil-Galad's balls smacking against his. Gil-Galad played with Sören's cock, stroking in time with his thrusts. Sören felt the pleasure in him rising, tightening, ready to burst, and he could feel it from Tindómion as well. And when Tindómion threw back his head and cried out, flooding Sören's mouth with his subtly sweet cream, Sören came too, moaning as he swallowed, and Gil-Galad came with a deep groan, Sören moaning again as he felt the hot, hot seed rush inside him, claiming him.  
  
Now Sören was pushed back into the grass and held between Gil-Galad and Tindómion, who pet and caressed him, reached to pet and caress each other. Gil-Galad and Tindómion took turns kissing him, then each other, and watching them kiss got Sören going again.  
  
Tindómion and Gil-Galad lapped at Sören's hard cock again, much as Sören and Gil-Galad had licked Tindómion's cock together. Sören writhed, arched to them, panting, moaning. Their clever tongues teased and teased, and every now and again they rubbed their tongues together, kissed, to tease Sören even more.  
  
At last they had their fill of teasing Sören. Tindómion came up to kiss Sören, claiming his mouth roughly, fiercely, and he spread Sören's legs. He settled between them and pushed the tip of his cock against Sören's opening, readied with oil and Gil-Galad's seed. With a deep, passionate kiss Tindómion claimed him, and Sören threw his arms around him. " _Yes,_ " Sören sobbed, before Tindómion kissed him again, taking his first few thrusts, sweet and slow.  
  
Sören watched as Gil-Galad got behind Tindómion, and Gil-Galad took one of the hands that Sören had on Tindómion's back, and with a wicked, seductive smile he drew Sören's fingers into his mouth, sucking them as he readied Tindómion, making Tindómion groan and thrust into Sören harder, faster. Then Gil-Galad's arms wrapped around Tindómion and Sören could tell from the way Tindómion's breath hitched, the way he moaned, that Gil-Galad was pushing inside him.  
  
Tindómion had to stop thrusting for a moment and just breathe, and then Gil-Galad tilted Tindómion's face to kiss him, and then Tindómion and Sören kissed, and Gil-Galad nibbled and licked Tindómion's neck and husked, "Take him like I'm taking you."  
  
With that, Tindómion showed no mercy, fucking Sören hard. Three male voices moaned and sighed and gasped and grunted and shouted together, as Tindómion thrust into Sören and Gil-Galad thrust into Tindómion, all of the Finwion fire unleashed, savage, primal. Sören loved it, and rocked his hips back at Tindómion, fucking himself on Tindómion's cock, giving as good as he got.  
  
They fucked with abandon, and Sören's voice rose above the others, pleasure building and building, once again so badly needing to come and yet so badly needing the hot, raw sex with his blood. And at last Tindómion's voice rose the loudest, until he was kissing Sören again, claiming his mouth, his neck, biting him, growling.  
  
"Come, both of you," Gil-Galad commanded.  
  
Sören and Tindómion took each other's hands and came together, screaming their release, and then a few seconds later Gil-Galad joined them, shuddering, calling out. Tindómion kissed Sören passionately, and with that kiss he reached into Sören's mind, as white-hot and demanding as the seed flowing inside him.  
  
 _You will never,_ ever _say such things about yourself again. You are my blood. You are_ mine. _You are_ ours. _You are one of us. That is all that matters. I am glad to know you, glad to hold you and love you at last._  
  
"And you are beautiful," Tindómion whispered, planting a tender kiss on Sören's brow, stroking his face again before their lips met, mouths parted, tongues danced together.  
  
"I love you," Sören said sincerely. It felt strange to say such a thing to someone he hadn't met before today, and yet, Tindómion was a part of him.  
  
"I love you," Tindómion said, looking into his eyes.  
  
"And I love you," Gil-Galad said, reaching out to stroke Sören's curls.  
  
Sören took Gil-Galad's hand and kissed it. "I love you too." And when their eyes met - the smile so like Fingolfin's, the blue eyes so like Fingolfin's - Sören had a frisson down his spine.  
  
 _Gil-Galad is Fingolfin's son. Not Fingon's._  
  
Sören was going to have to talk to Dooku about that sometime, see what he remembered, if that held true across universes. Something told Sören it rather did.  
  
In the meantime... they were holding him again, rocking him together. Sören clung to them, never wanting to let go.  
  
  
_  
  
  
Awhile later, Sören was alone again, leash once again tied to the tree. He was sitting up rather than kneeling. He was a bit dazed and half-dozing off - as often was the case after a good fuck and an intense orgasm - and he felt them before he saw them. His eyes snapped open to watch Fëanor approaching... with Maglor.  
  
Fëanor got right down next to him in the grass, untying the leash from the tree, while Maglor stood, watching... looking at Sören, taking it all in.  
  
It was one thing to regularly see, hear, smell, touch, taste, fuck the Maglor that lived on Sören's world. It was something else entirely to see the ascended Maglor - to feel the power of him, to actually hear music playing softly, as if a radio were going in the background. Just the god-Maglor's eyes were terrible and beautiful, making Sören shiver. He remembered the way Tindómion had scolded him about feeling unworthy, and he tried to take that to heart. But here it was again...  
  
Maglor was glaring at him.  
  
Tears came to Sören's eyes, pooled down his cheeks. He thought it was because Tindómion had died for his bloodline - Tindómion might not think Sören's life was a mistake, but he didn't speak for his father - and because his counterpart in Sören's world didn't have the real Fëanor, he was cheating him...  
  
And then, as if he knew what Sören was thinking, Maglor yelled, "You _stop_ that at once."  
  
Sören looked up at him. Now Maglor got on the grass beside him, and he seized Sören's face with his hands, kissed him roughly, tenderly touching his face nonetheless.  
  
"Stop hating yourself," Maglor said. "It _hurts._ " There were tears in his eyes now. "Too much... the pain..." He gave a shuddery gasp, but then he kissed Sören's cheek, and pressed his hand to Sören's heart. Sören covered Maglor's hand with his.  
  
"Sören," Fëanor said, "I would not have even told you to come here if we didn't think you were worthy of being here. As a rule, this is our space and we don't let outsiders in. But it is as my grandson told you. You are one of us."  
  
"I am not an Elf, I am not ascended," Sören said.  
  
"Details. You are still lovely to us. You are still our blood," Fëanor said. He put his hand on Sören's heart. "I tell you true - you are the physical embodiment of the Flame Imperishable, on your world. It would not have manifested as you, if you were not worthy. I have been called the most beautiful of the Noldor, and you have been reborn as one of the most beautiful of Men, because that is the way of the Flame, creation. The Valar want you to hate yourself and your life. In many, many worlds, if not all of them, my father gave me the name Fëanáro as an epithet - Spirit of Fire... he called me a demon. I turned that right back around on him, and made it something sacred. The Valar would curse you with life as a human, well, you show them you are blessed. You are _defiant._ You show them your life is worth far more than they think it is, because Elf, human, _you are the Flame and they shall **never** quench you._"  
  
"Yes," Maglor said, nodding. " _Yes._ "  
  
"We threw down the Valar in this world," Fëanor said. "The so-called 'gods', petty tyrants. They are just as bad in your own world, if not worse, and in your world there are also many, many other bullies called 'gods' not worthy of the power they wield. They rule over humans, and they of course shouldn't have that job because they have no idea what it is like to be human. _You do._ You would use that power far better than they. If I saw a world such as yours and I had _not_ been reborn as human, I would have to do it myself - to be born as mortal and ascend - to set things right. The Valar may have punished you with tragedies and trauma, but the fact is, the Flame would have taken the path of humanity anyway, to steal back the fire from the 'gods' and share it with the world. The Valar, and whatever other wretched filth calling itself 'god' can take credit for the wrongs you have suffered, but _I will not let them take credit for your life, your existence, itself._ " Fëanor snorted. "Typical of the Valar, that they would see my handiwork and want to take credit for it."  
  
Maglor spat with anger.  
  
Then Fëanor said to Sören, his voice firm, "And I will not hear you say, again, that you should forfeit your life to bring back 'the old Fëanor in his glory'. _**Enough of that.**_ I - he - have made myself anew. I - he - am re-discovering life. Growing in power even _stronger_ than I once knew on your world long ago, with this path set before me - before you. You are the new Fëanor, the... how do your people say it? evolution of Fëanor... you shall know new glories. You deserve life, you deserve to ascend, and if my son, on your world, deserves anything after the ills he's known, it's to be there for the journey. He needs that to heal."  
  
Sören began to sob, and Maglor and Fëanor pulled him close, held him tight.  
  
"There is yet more," Maglor said. "If Flame and Song would heal your world, Sören... there is magic in it being through the union of Elf and human. As within, so without - it will help awaken more of your kind, when you have grown in power and can use it."  
  
"Do you see now, you stubborn arse?" Fëanor kissed his brow. "Does my opinion not matter more than this Justin Roberts?"  
  
"He's a particularly stubborn case." Maglor's lips quirked. "He _is_ you, after all."  
  
Fëanor's eyes narrowed. "Don't make me send you to your uncle Ñolo, Kanafinwë."  
  
"Anything but that." Maglor gave a cheeky grin.  
  
"But I agree," Fëanor said, giving Sören a predatory look. "We might have to show him how dear he is to us... not just tell."  
  
With that, Fëanor kissed Sören, and then Maglor did. When Fëanor and Maglor kissed it was all Sören could do to not maul them both, giving a helpless little whimper.  
  
Maglor shoved Sören down on his back and kissed him hungrily, fiercely, deeply, their hard cocks rubbing together as Fëanor watched them, petting them, murmuring encouragingly. Sören moaned and Maglor gave a deep groan, kissing Sören's neck and shoulder, kissing down to his nipples. Then he made room for Fëanor - just as Fëanor had loved having his nipples sucked at the same time, Sören did too, crying out, arching to them, spreading his legs, wanting them both so badly.  
  
After spending a time teasing Sören's nipples with lips and tongue and teeth and fingers, playing with the nipple rings, Maglor and Fëanor took turns kissing him again, and then they kissed each other and shared a knowing look, as if they were telepathically discussing plans for Sören's body. Then Maglor slid down, and began to suck Sören's aching cock as Fëanor leaned in to kiss Sören again and again, fingers walking and brushing and tracing over him, hands sliding, caressing, as if he were sculpting or painting Sören into being.  
  
"You are so precious," Fëanor whispered. "You are glorious now, and you will be even moreso in the future. I have seen it, Sören."  
  
Maglor licked Sören's cock, driving him wild, and then he buried his face in Sören and began to eat Tindómion and Gil-Galad's seed right out of him, tongue rubbing that sweet spot inside Sören in a way that made him howl and scream, seeming to just know intuitively what Sören liked.  
  
As Maglor's tongue fucked inside Sören, now Fëanor was licking Sören's cock, teasing him, and teasing even more when he sucked just the head, rubbing his tongue as he sucked. He took the full length into his mouth for a few minutes, petting Sören as he moaned, and then Fëanor's tongue was licking all over the shaft again, dancing on the head, Sören almost sobbing with frustration.  
  
"Please," Sören begged. "Please..."  
  
"Oh, does our little flame want relief, hmm?" Fëanor came up to kiss him. He gave a wicked smile. "I don't know... if you think you're so unworthy of us, I'd hate for you to feel forced..."  
  
Sören _growled._ "Give me your cock, _now._ "  
  
Fëanor chuckled, and so did Maglor. Now Maglor stopped teasing and came up as well, kissing Sören passionately. Fëanor and Maglor stole another kiss, and then they nodded. Sören watched as they sat together in the lotus position, hard cocks pressed up together, and then they took Sören's hands, grabbed his body and maneuvered him. Facing Maglor, Sören impaled himself on their shafts, sinking slowly as they stretched and filled him - almost too much to take. His breath came in gasps when they were all the way in, and he needed a moment to rest. Fëanor's arms encircled him from behind, kissing his neck and shoulder as Maglor and Sören kissed, tongues playing together sensually.  
  
Sören began to ride, slowly at first. They rolled their hips, thrusting into him, slow and languid. Knowing they were making love to each other as well as him - cock rubbing cock inside him - sent shivers through Sören, indescribably turned on at that thought, and it wasn't long before Sören was bouncing on them, gasping, panting, completely lost in passion. Fëanor and Maglor matched his rhythm, their hands roaming over him, caressing, exploring, loving, teasing. Sören and Maglor kissed again and again, and Fëanor tilted Sören's head to steal a kiss. When they pulled apart, breathing hard, their tongues took a few playful licks and then Fëanor looked into Sören's eyes and rasped, "Flame and Song claim you together, now. We hallow _you_ , as my brothers and I hallowed the Silmarils. We ride off to war, and you ride off to your own battles - your fire feeds my own, and mine feeds yours. Remember this time, Sören. Remember that you are loved."  
  
Fëanor kissed Sören again, and then Maglor did, tugging on the leash of diamonds and pearls. Sören rode harder, faster, going back and forth between kissing both of them. Maglor's hand stroked Sören's cock and Fëanor's hand wrapped around Maglor's, guiding the rhythm. When Fëanor and Maglor leaned over Sören to kiss each other, Sören whimpered, on that edge, dangerously close. And when Maglor's fingers collected Sören's precum and brought them to Fëanor's lips, Sören inclining his head to watch Fëanor licking and sucking the precum from Maglor's fingers, Sören gave a strangled sob, bucking away as hard as he could, wanting beyond want, needing beyond need, like a scorching fire that would consume all in its wake.  
  
"Yes, little flame," Fëanor husked, cupping Sören's face in his hand, kissing his face, Maglor kissing his neck. "Come for us, beloved."  
  
Sören let go, coming hard, screaming - it seemed, into the Void itself - as his seed spent all over Maglor's chest. A few seconds later Fëanor and Maglor erupted together, magma-hot, almost too hot to bear, and Sören melted to the pleasure, the Silmarils thrumming atop his head, glowing brighter, enveloping him in white light, white heat, a deafening roar of joy.  
  
  
_  
  
  
When Sören came to, he was laying on the grass. The leash was tied to the tree - he stirred as it was being untied. His arms were raised above his head; he felt his wrists bound, and something brushing against his exquisitely sensitized skin. He looked and saw a length of white silk rope, with gold and silver threads in the braid. Then he looked up and saw Finarfin holding the diamond-and-pearl leash.  
  
"Hello," Finarfin said with a smile.  
  
Sören could only manage a shit-eating grin - the one of someone who had come their brains out a few times.  
  
And then Finarfin leaned in to rain kisses over his face, and that grin was replaced by a sigh. There was such sweetness, such tenderness, that it brought tears to Sören's eyes. Finarfin stroked Sören's face, looking into his eyes, and he planted a little kiss on the tip of Sören's nose.  
  
"Darling," Finarfin husked.  
  
When he moved in to take Sören's mouth, lips crashing together, tongues meeting, dancing, fucking, Sören heard himself cry out into the kiss, his cock leaping to needy attention once more. Sören wouldn't have thought it possible, but now he felt downright insatiable, his body thrilling to Finarfin's kiss, the heat in those silver eyes.  
  
They kissed and kissed, and then Finarfin began to worship Sören's body, starting with kissing, licking and nibbling Sören's neck, down one side of his neck to the shoulder, across the collarbone, up his throat, over his jaw, down the other side. He kissed down to Sören's nipples and spent a long, long time there, lapping and lapping, suckling hard, tugging the nipple rings with his teeth, tongue swirling around the nipple and then brushing slow and feather-light before rubbing hard. His thumb rubbed and fingers plucked one nipple as his mouth feasted on the other. Sören thrashed against the restraints, moaning, cock twinging, hole twitching.  
  
"Oh god, _please_ ," Sören begged. "Please fuck me."  
  
"I am not here to fuck you," Finarfin scolded. "I am here to make love to you. Besides..." He leaned in and took a lick at Sören's neck, seeming to just know how sensitive he was there. "You beg so prettily, brother."  
  
Sören let out a wail of frustrated need, and Finarfin laughed at him. Then he resumed, continuing to lick and suck and rub Sören's nipples, making them as hard and sensitive and aching as they'd ever been, and when Sören begged "Please, please," Finarfin just sucked them harder, mischief in his eyes.  
  
At last he relented, coming up to kiss Sören, and with the hard cock rubbing against his Sören thought for sure Finarfin would have mercy on him and take him. But his torment had just begun.  
  
Finarfin kissed down Sören's neck again, kissed and licked and nipped at Sören's chest, then Sören's stomach. His fingers played over Sören's body, brushing in lazy circles, swirls, arches, lines. "So lovely." He nibbled on a hip. "My brother was right, you are a work of art." With that, he kissed up one of Sören's arms, fingers and tongue tracing the path of flames. Then he kissed and licked and caressed down the other arm. Back to the shoulder, down Sören's side to his other hip. He licked, sucked, nibbled on Sören's thighs.  
  
And at last, his head hovered over Sören's cock. He breathed in the scent of Sören's arousal. Sören's breath hitched, waiting for relief. Finarfin's eyes glinted, and instead of sucking Sören's cock, he licked it. Licked it and licked it and licked it, chuckling as he felt Sören's cock throbbing, pulsing, Sören letting out yelps and whimpers as Finarfin's tongue drove him to madness.  
  
Finarfin sucked him slowly then - too slow to make Sören come, just enough to push the edge even higher, deeper. Sören gasped, shuddered, wailed, panting. "Oh god," Sören begged. "Please, Arafinwë. Please, Ara, _please_..."  
  
With a growl, Finarfin's teeth gave a little tug on the ring in the head of Sören's cock. Sören screamed, cock jolting at that, and he screamed again as Finarfin's tongue lashed the sensitive frenulum. He kissed it and licked it some more, and now Finarfin's hand was cupping Sören's balls, rubbing gently. When Finarfin began to kiss and lick the delicate sac, Sören writhed against the restraints again, howling.  
  
"God. _Please._ Ara. _Ara_..."  
  
The best-worst was yet to come. Finarfin spread Sören's legs. After kissing, licking, sucking, and nibbling one thigh, then the other, making Sören even crazier in desperate need, his tongue danced on the sensitive place between balls and ass, and then he licked around the rim of Sören's opening in slow circles. When Finarfin's tongue speared inside him, Sören cried out, shuddering, almost coming.  
  
Finarfin's tongue worked wicked magic inside him, putting even Maglor to shame. Sören thrashed around, begging "please" until he couldn't make words at all, only whimper and cry out, panting, gasping, as Finarfin brought him closer and closer to climax yet held it out of reach, clever tongue teasing and teasing. Sören had the memories of his timeline's Finarfin being just like this, refined in his lovemaking before he was fierce, savage, like a lion. So far, this Finarfin didn't disappoint.  
  
Finarfin's tongue lashed and lashed inside him, then slowed down, making Sören wail, and then sped up even faster, harder, like a storm. A few more minutes of that exquisite rubbing in him and Sören climaxed, shattering, toes curling involuntarily, making a mess all over himself as he sobbed.  
  
Finarfin gave a few last licks inside Sören's pulsing channel, and then he began to clean the mess of seed with his tongue, first from Sören's cock, then from his stomach, and then over his chest. Some of the cum had gotten on Sören's nipples, and Finarfin was teasing them again, Sören giving a sob as his sensitized cock sprang to life again.  
  
"You taste so sweet," Finarfin breathed. "As sweet as the heart inside you." He planted a little kiss over Sören's heart, then, bringing tears to Sören's eyes once more.  
  
Finarfin reached for the oil he'd brought. Sören gasped at the sight of Finarfin's cock, so engorged, flushed pink. His hole twitched, wanting it in him. After readying himself with a bit of stroking that made Sören beg, "yes, _please_ ," a beautiful, delicious sight, Finarfin leaned over Sören and pushed the head of his cock against Sören's opening. Sören gasped as he felt just the tip... and then Finarfin pulled back, teasing with an evil grin.  
  
"Oh god. Ara." Sören growled. "Dammit, Ara..."  
  
Finarfin chuckled. He stroked Sören's face lovingly, thumb tracing Sören's kiss-swollen lips as he continued to put in just the tip and pull back, maddening, relishing the control he had over the young human.  
  
"You're so pretty when you're like this." Finarfin kissed Sören's brow, slid his lips down Sören's nose, kissed his mouth hungrily.  
  
"You are the worst shit," Sören said in response, body screaming for another release.  
  
Finarfin grinned. "Well, I am related to _you_ , after all." He kissed Sören again. His cock continued to tease Sören's opening, just the tip, in and out.  
  
And then Sören surprised himself by not begging, not another quip, but asking a question, weighing heavily on his mind days before. "Arafinwë. Are you..." Sören took a deep breath. "Have you been reborn as human, in my world?"  
  
Holding his gaze, Finarfin nodded solemnly. "Yes." He kissed Sören again. "Oh yes."  
  
Tears spilled silently over Sören's cheeks. "Will I see you there?"  
  
"Yes." Finarfin kissed him again. "You will."  
  
Sören wanted to ask _how? where? when?_ but he didn't. Finarfin kissed him harder, and now he pushed all the way inside, and they both cried out into the kiss.  
  
Finarfin went slowly at first, achingly slowly. His hands slid over Sören's body, making him shiver, chills of pleasure in counterpoint to warm, sweet kisses that grew hotter, fiercer. They breathed each other's breath, and the glow of Finarfin's light in the silver-gold of his hair was like being bathed in the dawn itself, Sören basking in the sunrise and the promise of hope, that there would be a light somewhere, somehow after this dark time.  
  
"I love you, Fëanáro," Finarfin said, stroking Sören's face, and he put his thumb in Sören's mouth before he could respond.  
  
Then, teeth on Sören's throat, he went harder, faster, slamming into him as furiously as any of the others, if not more. The gentler brother that the legends forgot proved himself as much of the Blood of Fire as any of them, pounding into Sören savagely, all passion, all flame. And Sören loved it, shouting his pleasure, panting, rocking his hips back at Finarfin, bucking underneath him.  
  
 _I hope that your counterpart is as good as this,_ Sören thought to himself.  
  
Finarfin heard that thought and kissed Sören again, speaking into his mind. _I think it's safe to say you won't be disappointed._  
  
They didn't last much longer. Finarfin bit Sören's neck, shoulder, claimed his mouth like he could devour Sören with those kisses. His hand reached to work Sören's cock in time with his thrusts, and Sören could feel Finarfin trembling too, heard the hitch in his breath, the way he was panting also, getting closer. "Yes," Finarfin growled. "Burn for me, Fëanáro. Show me your fire."  
  
They kissed, and kissed, and when Finarfin bit Sören's neck again Sören lost control, crying out "Arafinwë, _Arafinwë!_ " as he climaxed, shooting all over Finarfin's body, as if he were worshiping Finarfin with an offering of his seed. A few thrusts later Finarfin exploded into him with a cry, and they kissed, moaning into the kiss. Finarfin waved his hand and the ropes untied from Sören's wrists. Sören flexed his wrists and wrapped his arms around Finarfin, who pulled on the leash as they kissed again.  
  
They lay there for awhile, Sören held close and tight and safe in Finarfin's arms, listening to his heartbeat. Then he began to play with Finarfin's hair, which seemed to delight him, Finarfin kissing Sören's face again. Sweet, tender little kisses gave way to more, the two kissing hungrily once again, and Sören's cock woke up, Sören laughing in disbelief.  
  
"So shameless," Finarfin said, fingers brushing Sören's hard length. "So wanton."  
  
"For you," Sören whispered, looking into his eyes.  
  
They kissed again and then Finarfin rolled Sören over. Sören got on his hands and knees and Finarfin took him from behind, arms holding Sören tight as he thrust into him hard and fast. The wild rubbing on his sensitized prostate - and the feeling of mating, rutting, like a wild animal, delicious sin with his brother-lover - sent Sören over the edge in a matter of minutes, and feeling Finarfin spend into him again was immensely gratifying.  
  
So much so that Sören needed more. Now Finarfin lay on his back, Sören straddled his hips, and rode. And though Sören rode, Finarfin was still in control, thrusting up into him hard enough to make Sören need to hold onto him for dear life, bucking away. Finarfin played with the leash, played with Sören's nipples and cock, and when Sören leaned down to kiss him, Finarfin played with Sören's hair. Then he leaned up to draw a nipple into his mouth and Sören screamed, riding even harder, grabbing onto Finarfin tighter. Finarfin was a beast, plunging into him with everything he had, and a few minutes later Sören exploded once more, weeping with euphoria, with love, as his full-body orgasm went on and on. Finarfin shook, gasping, shuddery sighs as he spent and spent and spent into Sören.  
  
"Thank you," Finarfin said. "Thank you, my love."  
  
"Thank _you._ " And Sören said it, finally. "I love you."  
  
"I know." They kissed.  
  
"And I miss you."  
  
Finarfin kissed the tears that silently flowed. He removed the pearl-and-diamond collar that Sören had been wearing this entire time - the leash still attached - and he shoved it into the pouch that once held the Silmarils. "To take with you," he said.  
  
"To remember you by?" Sören's heart sank, hoping he would be able to come back to the Timeless Halls to see Finarfin again.  
  
"When you've found him and it is time... when he starts to remember... when you _know_ he is starting to remember... give this to him." Finarfin's gaze was sharp then, commanding. "He won't be an easy one to convince. He'll need proof. This is your proof."  
  
And then Finarfin kissed him again, and cuddled Sören against him, rocking him. "It will be all right, my love. Somehow, things will all work out. Love will find a way."  
  
  
_  
  
  
Sören opened his eyes to look upon eyes like blue diamonds.  
  
"Fingolfin."  
  
Fingolfin was holding him now, stroking Sören's hair and face. Their lips brushed, and then they nuzzled and then their mouths came together again, lips parting, tongues seeking.  
  
Fingolfin slipped into him right away, Sören already open and ready from his brother. They rocked together slowly, dream-like, hands roaming, touching, feeling each other's bodies, skin thrilling and quivering into gooseflesh.  
  
All sense of time seemed to vanish as Fingolfin moved in and out of him slowly, savoring this moment of connection, every touch, every kiss, every sigh, cock stroking Sören's insides just right, Sören feeling Fingolfin's pleasure as well as his own.  
  
And then Fingolfin took Sören's hand, kissed it, and pressed it to his heart. He looked into Sören's eyes and said, "It has always been you, Fëanáro. And it will always be you. In any world, any time, any flesh... we will know each other, I will be yours and you will be mine."  
  
With that, Fingolfin kissed him hard. He rolled Sören onto his back, and with Sören's legs on his shoulders, Fingolfin on his knees, he gave the tremendous grand finale, slamming into Sören savagely as Sören screamed and howled, rocking back at him, panting, "Yes, yes, _yes..._ "  
  
"Yes, Fëanor." Fingolfin gave a deep, menacing growl, one that made Sören's cock jolt, and his hole twitch around the cock rubbing just right inside him. "We were made for this, in any lifetime, in any world."  
  
"Yes, _yes_ , oh god, yes, _fuck me_." Sören let out a wordless cry and fucked back at the cock pounding away deep inside him. "Ñolo, _Ñolo_ , more, Ñolo, _more_..."  
  
That word was Fingolfin's undoing just as it was Dooku's. Fingolfin shuddered, growled again, kept pounding and pounding. "Fëanor. My Fëanáro. _My_ Fëanor. _Mine._ "  
  
"Yes, yes, more, more, oh god, more, don't stop, don't ever stop, _don't you fucking stop_ , I need this, I need it, more, _more_..."  
  
But it was too good to last forever. Sören came hard, making a guttural noise as he came all over Fingolfin and himself. And a few thrusts later Fingolfin came with a shout of " _Fëanor!_ " that set off another pulse of pleasure in Sören. Fingolfin collapsed onto him, shaking, panting, and they kissed. Sören wiped the cum from their bodies and fed Fingolfin from his fingers and they kissed some more, Sören grinning as he felt Fingolfin harden up inside him again.  
  
Now Sören rode him, as he'd ridden Finarfin. He rode them to climax after climax after climax - Sören had three with Finarfin, and he had more than that now, losing count after five. He was getting sore, well-used - his body able to take much more use since becoming immortal, but he was reaching his limit. And still he hungered, Fingolfin bringing out something primal and wild and savage in him, a flame insatiable, fire meeting Fingolfin's fire and scorching the earth.  
  
"More," Sören insisted as he rode. "More, more, give me, I need, I need _you_ , more..."  
  
Their mouths met, and they came again, drinking each other's cries. It still wasn't enough, but Sören needed to dismount.  
  
Fingolfin offered himself, then. And Sören worshiped Fingolfin's body as Finarfin had worshiped his - kissing, licking, caressing every part of him, teasing the nipples, driving Fingolfin mad as he nibbled on his stomach and thighs. Sören sucked him slowly, smiling around the cock in his mouth as he watched Fingolfin tremble and gasp and moan. He licked Fingolfin's cock, slow, deliberate strokes from the head to the shaft then back up, then he lapped hard and fast, groaning as he felt Fingolfin's cock pulsing under his tongue. His tongue chased the precum, and he sucked a little at the head before his tongue brushed some more, adoring Fingolfin's cock as a microcosm of himself.  
  
And then, Sören's tongue slipped inside Fingolfin. He groaned, not able to keep from reaching for himself and stroking at the sound of Fingolfin crying out as he began to feast. His tongue found that sensitive nub in him right away and lashed it, rewarded with Fingolfin's moans, the way he panted for it, at last grabbing Sören's curls, his eyes feverish. Sören slowed the licking down, laughing softly into him as Fingolfin writhed and cried out, begging without words.  
  
Finally Sören was inside him, Fingolfin's leg hooked on a shoulder. Sören didn't want to come too soon, so he went at a moderate pace - not too slow, not too fast. He loved the light in Fingolfin's eyes as he stroked inside him, wanting to make it good for him. And when Fingolfin collected his own precum on his fingers and fed it to Sören, with Sören sucking his fingers, it was a moment of bliss that Sören never wanted to end, loving the taste of him.  
  
Fingolfin wasn't going to let Sören get away with keeping him on the edge forever, and Sören wasn't going to let him get away with setting the pace of the thrusts, this last time. Sören held nothing back, slamming into him as hard as he could, each moan and quiver Fingolfin produced threatening to set him off. He held back until Fingolfin climaxed, such beauty that Sören came too, and thinking of the way Dooku climaxed, the years they'd been making love together, intensified Sören's orgasm even more.  
  
They kissed, and it felt like their fire was exploding, too hot, Sören burning up like the phoenix on his back, taking Fingolfin with him. This wasn't ascension into godhood but it felt close, it felt like a quickening, power meeting power, power fueling power.  
  
"I love you," Sören whispered.  
  
"This is deeper than love," Fingolfin said.  
  
They kissed again, and Sören sank into his sea of stars, feeling like he was made of pure light.  
  
  
_  
  
  
Somehow, they'd gotten his clothes back on. Sören had the tiara of Silmarils on his head, and the pouch with the pearl-and-diamond collar-and-leash tucked in his jacket pocket. Knowing what a wlld ride the Portal had been, Sören put the tiara in his other jacket pocket, not wanting to lose it.  
  
They each hugged him - Gil-Galad, Tindómion, Maglor, Finarfin, Fingolfin, and finally Fëanor himself.  
  
"We're all proud of you," Fëanor said, taking Sören's hands and kissing them. "You've fought so hard, this far. And you still have a hard, uphill fight against you. But you'll get there."  
  
"Give that jail crow hell," Sören said.  
  
Fëanor nodded, chuckling. "I will."  
  
And then Fingolfin gave a polite little bow. _That is so Nico it hurts_ , Sören thought to himself, followed by _Well, maybe it's that Nico is so Fingolfin it hurts._  
  
"I wish you good fortune in the wars to come," Fingolfin said to Sören.  
  
Sören blew him a kiss. He waved, and then he made himself walk to the Portal and not look back, or he'd be tempted to stay there awhile longer.  
  
  
_  
  
  
Sören fell on the ground when the Portal ride stopped, and he was at the Dimmuborgir again. It was raining - the sunny weather had been a reprieve over the weekend, and now the ground was muddy and cold.  
  
Sören checked to make sure he still had the tiara and the pouch with the collar-and-leash inside, and he did. Sören got in the jeep - there was nobody else around, as he'd thought - and immediately checked the time on his cell phone. It was shortly after eight on the morning of Monday, October fifth, so he'd only been gone for a few hours his time as he predicted, while it felt like many more hours, if not a couple of days, had passed in the Timeless Halls.  
  
He spent a last few minutes examining the pearl-and-diamond collar-and-leash, and then the tiara with Silmarils. It felt so strange, to be holding things that had come from somewhere else, a reality out of his own, a world apart. And stranger still to know that the collar-and-leash would be key to helping Finarfin accept things, whenever he was found, whenever the time was right.  
  
Sören hoped it was sooner rather than later.  
  
But for now, he drove back to Dooku and Maglor. To carry his newly refueled fire home, and let it be their hearth through the darkness of this uncertain time.


	12. Relics

**Relics**

  
  
  
Sören slept for most of the day on Monday following his return from the Timeless Halls, and Maglor and Dooku let him sleep, correctly assuming whatever he'd done, he'd thoroughly exhausted himself and needed that sleep. But when it came time for dinner Dooku woke him up, and after dinner, Sören and Maglor went to walk Huan in the rain, in companionable silence, holding hands. Sören still felt a bit out of it, despite the walk in the rain, and he knew that he'd actually be sleeping at night instead of staying awake all night as tended to happen on days where he slept all day. But he wasn't ready to go back to bed just yet, and Maglor and Dooku took that window of opportunity to ask Sören about his trip.  
  
Instead of telling, Sören had something to show. He produced the tiara with the Silmarils, and used the Force to pass it to Dooku, then Maglor, for inspection. When Maglor held the tiara, thumb tracing over the floral-etched metalwork, his jaw dropped and his eyes widened with wonder.  
  
"Sören," Maglor said, finally looking at him, "this is mithril."  
  
Now it was Sören's eyes that went wide. "That." He swallowed. "I mean obviously I know now that Tolkien isn't 'just fiction', but... _wow_."  
  
Maglor nodded. He continued to run his fingers and thumb over the metalwork, passed it from hand to hand. "It's been in scarce supply since the Third Age, but trust Fëanor to have a reserve." He gave the tiara back to Sören with a stern look. "I don't want to hear your shit anymore about how you're not worthy of me, or any of this, and how your life isn't worth anything. Fëanor would not have made you _this_ if he agreed. You may not understand how valuable this is, but where I come from it's basically priceless. And he made it _for you._ "  
  
"He also hallowed the stones," Sören said. "He, Fingolfin, Finarfin. They held them together, before the Silmarils bonded in their settings in the tiara, and they..." Sören made a vague hand gesture, searching for words. "They blessed me, and cursed the Valar."  
  
"That's important," Maglor said. "These aren't just jewels. They carry a piece of Fëanor's soul. _Your_ soul. And with that... they hold great power. You will absolutely need these when it is time for you to face Odin, when it is time to face the Valar."  
  
"Ugh." Sören pinched the bridge of his nose. "Can we just... like... get through the Dagorath first?"  
  
"We can," Maglor said, "but this issue isn't going away."  
  
"It's not, I agree. But it's also not something that can be resolved right away, not soon... not for awhile."  
  
And yet, it still weighed on Sören's mind when he lay down for sleep that night, between Maglor and Dooku, with the cats and the dog laying on the foot of the bed. It occurred to Sören that they had been putting up a good front of quiet, "normal" domestic bliss - a triad of three queer men wasn't exactly "normal" in 2020 and they were still about as "normal" as it got in those circumstances, to the outside world - and it was not dissimilar to everything he knew about his parents' relationship. The young, happy married couple who secretly were both Force sensitive... and were secretly both cursed by gods, harassed and attacked. Sören was older than both his parents were when they died, and he had certain advantages they didn't, such as the gift of no longer aging which had made some physiological changes, made his body harder to hurt, harder to kill. But as the Dagorath approached, Sören couldn't shake the feeling that sooner or later, Odin was going to try to bring about the Ragnarök - to force Sören's hand and see if he could defeat the Fenrir-wolf prophesied to kill him. His mother had died performing a spell to "blind" Odin and keep him from looking at Sören and his siblings, beyond what he'd already seen. Now the Silmarils were here, and as much as Sören needed them in "the wars to come", as Fingolfin put it, he couldn't shake the feeling that with their brightness, Odin was finally seeing him.  
  
Maglor opened one eye. "Go to sleep, Ada."  
  
Sören made a noise.  
  
Maglor pulled Sören closer to him - Dooku's arms tightened around him from behind - and Maglor's lips brushed Sören's forehead. "I said," Maglor whispered, " _go to sleep._ "  
  
And like that, Sören's eyes were heavy and he slipped into silver stardust.  
  
  
_  
  
  
Sören was up early in the morning on Tuesday without the alarm - his body had decided it had enough sleep. He decided that he really needed to read his father's journal all the way through and stop putting it down whenever his feelings got too overwhelming, when things got uncomfortable. His father had written these things down _for a reason_ , he had left them to be found _for a reason_ , and Sören knew now that reason was becase his father knew he had a good chance of dying and he wanted his children to be prepared for the fight they had ahead of them.  
  
Most of the journal entries were about dreams, visions, and the not-coincidences in the waking day - nearly missed accidents that were getting so frequent and numerous that Sigurd stopped counting them - and not just Sigurd's own, but reporting that Brynhildur was having the same experiences, and the children were often disturbed. One of the most harrowing entries was reading about himself waking up screaming, and Sigurd and Brynhildur both heard a voice mocking them: " _My, the little wolf does howl! I wonder if he'll scream like that when I cut out his heart._ "  
  
Sigurd went on to mention that he asked Odin, "Why do you not just kill him now?" - adding as clarification that he did not want Sören dead, but he was curious why Odin was prolonging this if he saw such a threat.  
  
And Odin said, "I do not kill children. There are limits to even my cruelty. Besides... you know I live for battle. For strife. A fight against a small child, however gifted, is quickly over and done."  
  
As the journal entries wore on, Sigurd was now intensely studying Norse mythology. Icelandic schoolchildren were generally familiar with their country's history which included its legends - the average Icelander was as well-versed on Norse myth as a comparative mythology student in another country - but Sigurd dug deeper, trying to understand his opponent. He read not just myth, but historical documents, including comparing history from other Germanic cultures. It seemed fairly consistent that Odin/Woden/Wodan was a war god, encouraging tribe to rise up against tribe, slaughter and pillage. And he demanded bloody sacrifices, like the "nine nines" given at Uppsala in Sweden, nine males of every species - including human - once a year.  
  
One of the things that Sigurd noted about Odin's narrative was that he was fond of disguising himself and wandering. Sigurd noted that in other cultures, their gods and other supernatural beings tended to have fantastic appearances - the animal-headed Egyptian deities, the angels of the People of the Book who were no innocent-faced ethereal cherubs but were described as eldritch abominations with multiple eyes and wings and limbs, sometimes not even taking a humanoid shape at all but looking like a mechanical wheel. Even the Greek gods, who could shapeshift to romance mortals, were not very good at blending in. Sigurd mused in a journal entry whether or not Odin had once been human or something like a human, which was how he could take on a human-like appearance in his travels.  
  
This disturbed Sigurd enough that one night, he and Brynhildur reconstructed the ancient practice of seiðr, inducing a visionary journey. Sigurd went back in time and saw Wodanaz, an ancient Germanic shaman-chieftain, and his people struggling for survival during a harsh winter that was longer than usual. He and his brothers slew a frost giant, named Ymir, and the winter ended and they took over Ymir's territory. But more than that, Wodanaz "drank" Ymir's power.  
  
And then he didn't stop there. He set his tribe on other tribes, and when he broke their idols he performed a shamanic journey to kill their gods and "eat" their power. Soon he could travel without doing the ritual - in flesh, not just vision. He had been an old man close to death's door and he stopped aging. He grew stronger and stronger, more and more powerful. And where he had started off on this path to keep his people alive, now he had no compassion for what he perceived as weakness. He took pleasure from inciting and watching slaughter, pleasure in "culling the herd" with sacrifices. He liked having power, and he used it to inflict suffering rather than prevent it.  
  
At the end of the vision, Sigurd was no longer an observer in time, but Odin approached him and confirmed everything he'd seen was true. And asked him a simple question: "Would you know more?"  
  
The next several entries from Sigurd were filled with seething anger - Sören would have smiled at the swearing and mockery, recognizing it as something he did, like father like son, except Sören was angry too, for the same reason. It was bad enough that Odin was attacking a family and claiming it was some sort of self-preservation. It was worse to know that he enjoyed it.  
  
And then there was the final entry from Sigurd, saying he was going to take the sword his wife had given him as a wedding gift - a sword that had come from an ancestor from Norway, centuries ago - and he was going to face Odin himself, the next time he felt Odin's energy hanging around. That he was going to not even give Odin a chance to meet Sören in battle as an adult, but was going to end it himself, once and for all, because Odin needed to pay for what he'd done.  
  
Sören needed a stiff drink after reading that. The coroner's report had called it a stroke. Sören wondered how far Sigurd had gotten, and had a feeling it wasn't far, Odin making short work of him. _Brave but foolish._  
  
And he was still proud of his father. He had tried. He had shown courage to the bitter end.  
  
As he drank, he tried to not think about it, shaken, but his eyes kept wandering back to that final journal entry. The mention of the sword, that had come from Norway.  
  
Sören finally unrolled the rolled-up piece of paper, bound with elastic, that he'd found with a journal. It was a map of the old family farm in Akureyri, the one that had belonged to Margrét Þorvaldsdóttir and Sören Ásmundsson, his mother's grandparents, Sören's great-grandmother and great-grandfather. The farm had been sold in the 1980s since there was no longer anyone around to manage the farm. The map was in his mother's handwriting, and there was a note in the corner: _To Sören or whoever finds this, here is where the sword is buried._  
  
Sören's breath caught. His heart began to race, and the hands holding the map shook.  
  
He found himself going for a drive, by himself - not anywhere in particular, just needing to get out and clear his head. But after driving for a couple hours, he came back to Akureyri and drove to the graveyard where his parents were laid to rest. The sun was setting, as it did now in October in the late afternoon, and Sören walked through the graveyard to his parents' headstones.  
  
 _Sigurd Tollasson, 1957-1986  
Brynhildur Jónsdóttir 1960-1990_  
  
Sören knelt before their graves, kissed his fingertips and pressed them to each headstone in turn. He wanted to cry, but the tears wouldn't come.  
  
At dinner on Tuesday Sören was silent, and he was silent on the usual after-dinner walk with Maglor, bringing Huan. Maglor and Dooku seemed to know something was wrong, and after the walk they sat in the hot tub together and Dooku finally asked Sören, "What is it?"  
  
Sören took a few deep breaths, collecting his thoughts. "I got through my father's journal."  
  
"That must have been hard," Maglor said, nodding.  
  
"It was a bit worse than I anticipated." Sören hugged his knees, feeling a chill despite the heat of the bubbles. He glanced at Dooku, then at Maglor, who were waiting for him to go on. "When I was in the Timeless Halls, Fëanor and, ah... you..." He nodded at Maglor. "Got on my case about how I'd been feeling about myself."  
  
Maglor snorted. "Good."  
  
"One of the things that came up in the lecture is that the 'gods' of this world don't deserve to be gods because they don't understand humanity. They were born as gods, they've never known what it's like to be human and to suffer the same way humans do. Fëanor thinks I would do better because, well." Sören gestured to himself and shrugged. Then he frowned. "But when I was reading my father's journal... well, Odin and the Aesir, they used to be human. Odin got his start as a chieftain named Wodanaz. He killed a frost giant named Ymir, and took his powers... and went on from there. He understands what it's like to be human. He also rejected it and he... he got his kicks from making humans suffer for being 'weak'. My father saw all this in a vision, and Odin himself confirmed to him it was all true. And _that_ made my father go berserk, and the next time Odin came round to harass them... he went after him. Which is why he's not alive now."  
  
"That's terrible," Maglor said, and Dooku nodded.  
  
Sören also nodded. "I think it's even worse than a god who just doesn't get it and humans are this weird alien thing that they're detached from. Odin was a _traitor_ to the world he came from. I can't blame my father for reacting the way he did. He probably knew he was going to die, but he wanted to take Odin out with him, I guess, or at least... injure him. Which. You know." Sören's eyes met Dooku's. "Is like nothing we've ever seen before."  
  
Dooku made a noise and looked away. Sören felt that little sting of remembering Fingolfin's death - Fëanor had long since been dead, but Sören remembered his reaction to reading about it, and then it was even worse when he saw and felt it across his Force bond with Dooku, the memories that Dooku now lived with.  
  
"And foolish that he was, for taking on a god... he had something special." Sören pursed his lips. "There was mention of a sword, that came from an ancestor from Norway. A maternal ancestor - my mother gave the sword to my father as a wedding gift."  
  
Maglor's jaw dropped and his eyes widened much the same as he'd reacted when he'd seen the mithril. "You mean..."  
  
"I'm pretty sure it was 'Tindri's' sword, yes, Maglor." Sören gave a deep sigh. "And after my father died, my mother buried the sword. The paper I found with the journal is a map."  
  
"We have to find it," Maglor said, getting out of the tub with a start. "We have to go there, dig it up -"  
  
Dooku put a hand on Maglor's arm. "Macalaurë, we are not doing it at this hour."  
  
Sören shook his head. "We can't anyway. It's on someone else's property now."  
  
"This is where my son's ashes were scattered, yes?" Maglor's brow furrowed.  
  
"Yes. But it's one thing to dig up a little dirt within a reasonable walk from the roadside. It's another thing to go all the way onto someone's property and do an excavation."  
  
"We're still doing it," Maglor said. "Tomorrow."  
  
"OK, well, can we at least try to get permission to do it?" Sören asked.  
  
"We can try. But I'm getting that sword whether they give me permission or not."  
  
  
_  
  
  
Late Wednesday morning, Dooku, Maglor, and Sören drove to the old family farm. Sören had the map in hand, and tools to dig were in the trunk of the jeep.  
  
There were vehicles parked at the farm which suggested the owners were there. Sören knocked on the door and waited. After a second attempt at knocking, a beefy, balding, red-faced man answered and stood in the doorway, sizing him up. "Jæja?"  
  
"Jæja," Sören replied.  
  
"Jæja."  
  
"Jæja..."  
  
A pause, and then the man folded his arms and said, "Jæja."  
  
"Jæja." Sören nodded. He cleared his throat, and spoke to the man in Icelandic. "I'm Sören Sigurdsson, the great-grandson of Margrét Þorvaldsdóttir and Sören Ásmundsson, who used to own this farm."  
  
"Oh, já? I remember them. And wait... I remember you. You were here a year or so ago, já?"  
  
Sören nodded. "I had a friend who I wanted to show your goats and ponies to." That "friend" had been Vanimórë.  
  
"Jæja, what can I do for you? Did you want to see the goats and ponies again?"  
  
"I do, but also..." Sören took a deep breath, feeling nervous, hoping that this would work out and he wouldn't have to negotiate. "I recently found a map my late mother drew. She buried something on the land before it was sold. I came here today to dig it up. I know this is your property now, so I want to ask permission. I'm also going to disclose to you that it's a family heirloom, it's worth something, but I'm willing to pay you 120,000 krónur if you let me walk out of here with it without trying to claim it for yourself." That worked out to roughly a thousand US dollars. Charlie Audley had been a bit hard-nosed about a spending limit without authorization - they had plenty of money, but displays of wealth would attract the kind of attention that MI6 thought was a bad idea in their situation. And Sören really didn't want to offer higher and have to get Charlie's permission for why he was taking out that much money from the bank.  
  
To his relief, the farmer said, "No need to pay me, if something's in your family you should have it."  
  
Sören could have hugged him. "Thank you. Thank you so much..."  
  
Sören, Maglor and Dooku followed the directions on the map across the acreage. Sören paused a few times to pet the goats and Icelandic ponies, with Maglor having to drag him away to get to their destination. The marker was just as Brynhildur had left it, a large stone with a hole in it.  
  
The three of them began to dig. It took awhile, but at last Maglor's shovel sounded like it struck something metal. They were far enough away from prying eyes that Sören, Maglor and Dooku joined hands and began to pull with the Force. And, after a few minutes of pulling as hard as they could, it flew out of the hole in the ground... and into Sören's waiting hands.  
  
It had a bit of dirt caked on that needed to be cleaned off, but it was otherwise unmistakeably a sword... and not just any sword, but looked like something out of legend. The star of the House of Fëanor was on the guard of the sword, with a jewel set in the center of the star that had a blue flash like moonstone or labradorite, but was neither of these things. The hilt of the sword looked as silver, and the blade of the sword looked as bronze. There was Tengwar script etched onto the blade, and Maglor wiped off some of the dirt to read it aloud.  
  
" _Come and take it._ " Maglor's lips quirked, his eyes soft with fond memory.  
  
Sören laughed. "Fëanorions breed true."  
  
"Very true." Maglor handed Sören the sword, then. "Celebrimbor forged this for Tindómion. You need a sword of your own, and he would have wanted you to have it. Of this I am certain."  
  
Sören took the sword with tears in his eyes, tears reflected in Maglor's own.  
  
Back at the house Sören and Maglor cleaned the sword together, while Dooku went to the gym. And when the sword was clean and looking as good as new, Maglor cried. Sören held him for a long time, crying with him - crying for Tindómion, crying for his father, crying for all of the suffering Odin caused, crying for the uncertain future.  
  
At last Maglor needed comfort in his distress beyond being held, and Sören obliged, riding him slowly, holding him. The rain started up again as Sören rode and kissed Maglor's tears, and after their climax they tangled up together, listening to the rain, drifting off to sleep for awhile.  
  
  
_  
  
  
On Thursday late afternoon, Vigdís and Páll came by with their children Solveig and Sigurjón for dinner. Dooku went to the grocery store in anticipation of their visit and came in just as Sören was making coffee. Dooku and Páll grilled steaks and fish outside, and Sören and Maglor made a salad. Solveig and Sigurjón wanted to help with the salad, so Sören assigned them tasks, watching fondly.  
  
"They're good kids," Sören said to Vigdís.  
  
"We missed you at art classes this week," Solveig said, and her brother nodded solemnly. "We heard you weren't feeling good so we wanted to be helpful."  
  
Sören felt about ready to cry. Once again, he felt a pang that he hadn't had children of his own. It really had come to a head several months ago when Sören had gone to Toronto for a weekend in March to be there to see Dag's newborn baby daughters - Sören had cried and some of it had been genuine happiness for his brother, but some of it had been sheer regret that, at thirty-five, it seemed unlikely now he'd be starting a family. Teaching a couple classes for kids each week at Logifugl Listaskóli had given Sören a sort of outlet for his parental instincts, but it wasn't quite the same.  
  
He could sense sadness in Maglor as well, across their bond. Sorrow that he hadn't gotten to raise Tindómion, hadn't even known he'd had a son until Tindómion was grown and sought him out. Their reunion had been all too brief when Gil-Galad fell in the War of the Ring and Tindómion went away in his mourning, not wanting Maglor to follow. There was no substitute for the son Maglor had lost. But Maglor, too, was wishing for some way to be a father, knowing that possibility was unlikely, and seeing Solveig and Sigurjón was both a delight and a bitter reminder of what he could never have.  
  
For Sören, the entire visit turned out to be bittersweet. It was nice to see Vigdís and Páll again, to catch up with them about their lives. It was nice to have some "normalcy" and a break from worrying about the impending Dagorath, or having too many feelings about things that happened in a life lived long ago. But it also felt weirdly isolating, and Sören was starting to understand why Maglor had spent so long reluctant to make attachments, keeping people at an arm's length. Vigdís and Páll didn't know about their Force sensitivity, or immortality, or Maglor being non-human, and they certainly didn't know the Dagor Dagorath was about to happen in another universe and something might be felt of it here. Not only would Sören have to leave his friends behind someday - and their children; he'd never get to see how Solveig and Sigurjón turned out when they were older - but here and now there was a feeling of disconnect, feeling like to some extent they had to put on an act and keep up appearances. Being around "normal" for a few hours was both refreshing as well as depressing.  
  
It was disconcerting enough that Sören had a sleepless night. He couldn't draw, he couldn't paint. He re-read his father's journal, and he sat for awhile with Tindómion's sword - now his sword - and he took Huan for a long walk. He watched the sunrise and thought of Finarfin, wherever he was.


	13. The End of the Beginning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The memory referenced of Dooku and Sören visiting the Nature Baths at Lake Mývatn together is part of the story [_Don't Threaten Me With A Good Time_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14787306), telling the tale of when they meet and fall in love.

**The End of the Beginning**

  
  
  
As Sören came back from walking Huan and watching the sunrise on the morning of Friday, October ninth, he felt a strange sense of foreboding. Usually going for a long walk like the one he'd just taken would be enough to tire him out enough to want to take a nap - indeed, that was exactly why he'd gone on the walk, after a restless, sleepless night. But if anything, he felt even more awake now, like he'd just been given a shot of caffeine, and it made him wonder why.  
  
Maglor and Dooku found him at the kitchen table, drinking coffee, which was probably the last thing Sören needed right now, but he didn't care.  
  
Maglor narrowed his eyes. "Ada, go to bed."  
  
"No." Sören sipped his coffee. "Can't sleep."  
  
"I can help put you to sleep."  
  
Sören was aware of that. Now he admitted, "Won't sleep." He looked out the window. "I feel really uneasy right now, like it's for the best I stay awake, or something."  
  
"Yeah, I saw your father's journal on the coffee table." Maglor folded his arms. "You were thinking about all of that again."  
  
Sören nodded. "I tried not to, but."  
  
Dooku sat down at the table and used the Force to fix himself a cup of coffee as he took Sören's hands and looked into his eyes with love and worry. Sören's lips quirked with mild amusement as he watched the coffee pot pour into a mug without being touched, then the fridge opened and out came the cream, then a spoon dipped into the sugar bowl and put in two sugars, all without being touched. "Odin is a concern," Dooku said, "but not our most immediate concern. You've had a rough time of things lately -"  
  
"We all have," Sören said.  
  
"We all have," Dooku said, nodding. "But as you know, Sören, you've always been a bit high-strung. I think if you can't sleep, you should have some sort of distraction."  
  
"Yeah, I agree," Maglor said. "Let's get you out of the house."  
  
"I don't want to do anything that requires me flying into Reykjavik," Sören said.  
  
"OK, so we'll keep it reasonably local. Your call, though," Maglor said.  
  
Sören thought for a few minutes and then he said, "What about the Botanical Garden? And then a drive out to the Nature Baths at Lake Mývatn? We have a hot tub and all, but going to an actual hot spring sounds really, really good right about now."  
  
"We can do that," Maglor said.  
  
Sören looked at Dooku. "You coming with us?"  
  
"Ordinarily I wouldn't miss the opportunity to accompany you to Lake Mývatn," Dooku said, "considering my first experience in the Nature Baths was the first time I saw the aurora and was just before the first time we made love." Dooku smiled fondly, his eyes twinkling with the memory. Sören couldn't help smiling back, watching the memory across their bond - _feeling_ it, how much they loved each other then, how much passion there was between them... how that love and passion had grown stronger with time since then. Sören could feel how much Dooku cherished that memory, and Sören did as well. Sören felt a sharp ache - he didn't want to turn back time and lose what they'd found, what they'd built, since then, but he wished he could revisit the magic of that particular moment just once. Before Sören could get too caught up in the urge to nag Dooku to come along, Dooku said, "I do have writing to work on - I woke up with a head full of ideas this morning and I should like to strike while the inspiration is there."  
  
"All right." Sören couldn't blame him for that, considering his own tendency for the muse to seize him at inconvenient times, and refuse to cooperate when he actually had free time. "So it's just you and me, then," Sören said, turning to Maglor.  
  
"We'll take Huan, too."  
  
  
_  
  
  
No matter how many times Sören had been to the Botanical Garden in Akureyri - and it was countless times, now - it never got old. He loved walking around and admiring all the pretty flowers, different shapes and colors and scents - poppies and pansies, marigolds and margaritas, lobelia, dianthus, cosmos, among others. He also loved the way the garden was laid out, the pathways and fountains and pond and shrubs and trees, the cute little houses on the property. The rain had stopped for today and underneath the bright blue sky and fluffy white clouds, it was the perfect day to look at the flowers, to take everything in, one of the simple joys of living. He loved the presence of beauty, that feeling of _life_ , the vibrant energy thrumming, the flowers wild but also peaceful.  
  
"In a way it's so fitting that you were reborn here," Maglor said softly as they dallied at the orange poppies. "The Fireflower, in the land of flowers."  
  
Sören grabbed Maglor and kissed him hard, moved to tears by his words.  
  
Huan loved the walk in the garden, and only gave a little whine of protest when Maglor put him in the jeep just before they went to the garden's cafe. At the cafe in the garden they had a treat - Sören and Maglor split an assortment of cookies, and Sören also indulged himself with a piece of strawberry cake. Maglor stole a bite of the cake and Sören tweaked his nose, and Maglor gave him a cheeky grin before giving Sören a noogie. They had coffee and played footsie under the table, and Sören was feeling a little randy by the time they got back in the jeep. The thought of Maglor showering naked at the Nature Baths and sitting in his trunks in the hot spring did nothing to calm Sören's libido, and Maglor snickered at Sören being proudly erect once they stripped down for the obligatory shower before entering the Nature Baths.  
  
It was just them on an early weekday afternoon in October, though Sören knew the hot spring might get more traffic later in the evening, with it being a Friday night. The waitstaff would bring beverages out to people sitting in the spring, and Sören ordered beer for both of them, the frosty beer a nice contrast to the heat of the water. He felt a little bad about Huan waiting in the jeep, but it wasn't too hot for him to be in there - the window was open partway besides, to give the dog some air - and they wouldn't be terribly long.  
  
Though Sören had been feeling horny on the way to Lake Mývatn and they were alone in the hot spring, they weren't completely alone - it was still public enough that Sören didn't want to risk fooling around. So he and Maglor just cuddled together, stealing the occasional kiss... and they relaxed together. The uneasiness of the sleepless night and earlier that morning had started to fade when they visited the flowers, and now here in the hot spring the rest of it melted and flowed away. Sören leaned on Maglor's shoulder, sipping at the beer bottle, staring up at the endless blue sky, and took a moment to express silent gratitude to the universe for what he had. Through all of the tragedy and pain of his life, cursed by gods, he'd managed to forge some hard-won joy. Life had been pretty good for the last couple of years. He had two amazing men in his life, and had been given the gift of immortality to spend eternity with them, to watch the history of the world unfold in exciting new directions.  
  
" _Ég elska þig, ástin mín._ " Sören gave Maglor a kiss.  
  
Maglor stroked Sören's face, smiling at him adoringly, and their noses rubbed together before Maglor whispered, " _Eu também te amo, meu precioso garoto querido._ " He kissed Sören back.  
  
Sören kissed him harder. "You know what it does to me when you talk to me in Portuguese."  
  
Maglor smirked. "You know what it does to me when you talk to me in Icelandic."  
  
"No, you doing that is way more unfair." Sören kissed him again. He took Maglor's free hand and slid it down under the water to the hard bulge in his trunks. "You got me all worked up again."  
  
"You get yourself worked up, you horndog." Maglor nibbled on his neck, and Sören felt like screaming.  
  
Nonetheless, once they finished their bottles of beer a few minutes later, Sören began dragging Maglor out of the hot spring, Maglor laughing all the way. Sören was tempted to throw him in the back seat of the jeep and ride him, and Maglor sensed the surge of lust across their bond, tsked, and said, "This is still kind of public." He patted Sören's ass. "Here, drive us home and we'll get Nicolae to have some fun with us."  
  
They let Huan out of the jeep for a few minutes so he could run around in the fresh air, and then Sören scooped up the dog for kisses, telling him "what a good boy, waiting for us." He put Huan back in the back seat of the jeep, who seemed just happy to be out, tongue lolling with contentment.  
  
Then Huan let out a plaintive whimper, that went well beyond being put back in the vehicle.  
  
The ground shook. Sören was both surprised and not surprised to feel an earthquake - there had been a small one when they'd visited Eyjafjallajökull less than a week ago, and usually when there was one earthquake there would be more in the days that followed. But it was still unexpected, and even a small earthquake made his legs feel like rubber, Sören leaning on the jeep, Maglor steadying him.  
  
Sören got in the driver's seat and Maglor in the passenger's seat. Sören took a few minutes to catch his breath and calm down, and then once he turned the ignition, Maglor smirked and said, "Here, I can help calm your anxiety." He put a playlist in the car stereo. Sören rolled his eyes and chuckled at the sultry sounds of Sade.  
  
 _If I tell you  
If I tell you now  
Will you keep on  
Will you keep on loving me  
If I tell you  
If I tell you how I feel  
Will you keep bringing out the best in me  
  
You give me, you give me the sweetest taboo  
You give me, you're giving me the sweetest taboo  
Too good for me_  
  
Maglor waggled his eyebrows and Sören lost it. But then the silliness gave way to a more sensual mood at the next song, "Wicked Game" by Chris Isaak.  
  
 _The world was on fire and no one could save me but you  
It's strange what desire will make foolish people do  
I never dreamed that I'd meet somebody like you  
I never dreamed I'd love somebody like you  
I don't want to fall in love  
No I don't want to fall in love with you  
  
What a wicked game to play  
To make me feel this way  
What wicked thing to do  
To let me dream of you_  
  
"OK, this is doing nothing to help me not be horny right now," Sören said, turning off the music, "and we've got a bit of a drive to get home."  
  
"Allllllllllll right." Maglor gave an exaggerated sigh. "You pick the music, then."  
  
Though Sören and Maglor both liked goth music, it was a bright, cheery day and Sören was actually in a good mood - despite the earthquake - and he didn't want something that would make him pensive. So he defaulted to a playlist of pop, R&B and hip-hop. Maglor gave an affectionate eyeroll as "Rock Your Body" by Justin Timberlake came on, and snickered as Sören belted it out, singing the chorus in a falsetto.  
  
 _Don't be so quick to walk away (Dance with me)  
I wanna rock your body, please stay (Dance with me)  
You don't have to admit you wanna play (Dance with me)  
Just let me rock you till the break of day (Dance with me)  
  
Got time, but I don't mind  
Just wanna rock you, girl  
I'll have whatever you have  
Come on let's give it a whirl  
  
See, I've been watchin' you  
And I like the way you move  
So go 'head, girl, just do it  
That ass shakin' thing you do  
  
So you grab your girls and you grab a couple more  
And you all could meet me in the middle of the floor  
Said the air is thick, it's smellin' right  
So you pass to the left, then you sail to the right  
  
Don't be so quick to walk away (Dance with me)  
I wanna rock your body, please stay (Dance with me)  
You don't have to admit you wanna play (Dance with me)  
Just let me rock you till the break of day (Dance with me)_  
  
Then, a couple minutes later, Maglor amused Sören by singing the female part of the song.  
  
 _{Talk to me, boy} No disrespect, I don't mean no harm  
{Talk to me, boy} I can't wait to have you in my arms  
{Talk to me, boy} Hurry up 'cause you're takin' too long  
{Talk to me, boy} Bet I'll have you naked by the end of this song  
  
So what did you come here for {I came to dance with you}  
You don't wanna hit the floor {Get some romance with you}  
Been searchin' for love for evermore {I'll take a chance}  
If love is here on the floor, girl_  
  
At the end of the song Maglor said, "You said you were going to have me naked by the end of this song."  
  
Sören blew a raspberry at him, just before he recognized the opening notes of "Happy" by Pharrell Williams.  
  
 _It might seem crazy what I'm about to say_  
  
Sören's face lit up. "I love this song!" He turned it up and began to bob his head. Maglor did too.  
  
 _Sunshine she's here, you can take a break  
I'm a hot air balloon that could go to space  
With the air, like I don't care, baby, by the way_  
  
Then suddenly, Sören felt a chill down his spine, even as the temperature inside the jeep seemed to shoot up. In Sören's mind's eye everything was going white - and not just in his mind's eye, but the view from the jeep was going white too.  
  
 _(Because I'm happy)  
Clap along if you feel like a room without a roof  
(Because I'm happy)  
Clap along if you feel like happiness is the truth  
(Because I'm happy)  
Clap along if you know what happiness is to you  
(Because I'm happy)  
Clap along if you feel like that's what you wanna do_  
  
Sören could see Fingolfin go up in a fireball, and felt an intense surge of rage-grief, mirrored by Fëanor. _No,_ Fëanor cried out. _My Ñolofinwë. My Ñolofinwë..._ It was as if Fëanor's very soul had been ripped out.  
  
Fëanor now understood the nothing-left-to-lose feeling that had brought Fingolfin to stand against the Dark Lord. Sören could feel the Silmarils burning on Fëanor's brow elsewhere, hot, hot, heat, like a reactor about to explode. He could feel pressure building within him. Now the road and the jeep were getting swallowed up by white and all that existed was Fëanor's heat, his rage, the indescribable pain and torment.  
  
 _Thou fool._ Fëanor's voice, and it was directed at Melkor, terrible devouring darkness, the fabric of space whirling in his great dark limbs. The horns on his helm felt like they could stab Fëanor across the distance. _Dost thou understand what thou hath just brought upon thyself._  
  
 _Dost_ thou _understand that I am sick and sore of this_ obsession _with thee? How dare thee exist as thou does, thou and thy blood... I have gone mad with thee. There is no line I will not cross, Fëanor, to be rid of thee and my obsession once and for all. Nothing I will not do to be_ free _of this madness, this torment._  
  
A wry chuckle from Fëanor - a deceptively calm gesture as the pressure and heat was rising, rising, rising, more of the world swallowed up in blinding white. _Thou wouldst do anything?_  
  
 _Here come bad news, talking this and that (Yeah!)  
Well, give me all you got, don't hold it back (Yeah!)  
Well, I should probably warn you, I'll be just fine (Yeah!)  
No offense to you, don’t waste your time, here's why_  
  
The booming reply from Melkor, eons of weariness in his voice. _Anything._  
  
Fëanor narrowed his eyes. _Then perish._  
  
And then Fëanor closed his eyes and with one last vision of Fingolfin and his silver-blue eyes, the gathering rage and light went off, like a bomb, only far, far, far more terrible, far more deadly. The infinite-bright struck the infinite-dark of Melkor's horns and ripped through the rest of him, tearing apart the weave of space that he had devoured, pulsing within him...  
  
 _(Because I'm happy)  
Clap along if you feel like a room without a roof  
(Because I'm happy)  
Clap along if you feel like happiness is the truth  
(Because I'm happy)  
Clap along if you know what happiness is to you  
(Because I'm happy)  
Clap along if you feel like that's what you wanna do  
  
Bring me down, can't nuthin' (happy)  
Bring me down  
My level is too high to bring me down (happy)  
Can't nuthin', bring me down (happy)  
I said, let me tell you now, unh (happy)  
Bring me down, can't nuthin', bring me down (happy, happy, happy)  
My level is too high to bring me down (happy, happy, happy)  
Can't nuthin' bring me down (happy, happy, happy)_  
  
Sören lost control of the wheel, the intense pressure in his head too much to bear. For a moment he was reminded of finding his mother dead when he was not yet six, the coroner's report saying it was an aneurysm. Wondering if he was going to die, whether from whatever was happening in his head or the jeep now skittering on the Ring Road, no longer driving in a straight line but veering hard to the side, turning, turning, turning...  
  
Maglor shouted and Huan howled just as the jeep struck a road sign pole, the back windows shattering with the impact.  
  
_  
  
In Akureyri, Nicolae Dooku jumped and spilled hot tea all over himself, as Snúdur yowled and ran to hide under the couch.  
  
In Reykjavik, Frankie O'Riordan was grocery shopping with her wife Margrét Sigurdsdóttir and fainted. Margrét took out her phone to call the paramedics but when she opened her mouth, no sound came out, and she couldn't stop shaking.  
  
In Toronto, Ontario, Dagnýr Sigurdsson fainted at the end of a class, on the university campus.  
  
In St. Andrews, Scotland, Ari Einarsson dropped a d20 and when he went to retrieve it from the floor he ended up staying down in the crash-fold position, like there was an air raid. His partner Harrison James got on the floor next to him, concerned. "Are you OK?" Ari shook his head, trembling.  
  
In Adelaide, Australia, a truck driver named Alinta Jonsson woke up from a sound sleep with a shout as she dreamed of being out with her partner and children and suddenly the city was turned into an apocalyptic wasteland, with everyone dying, just before she died too. Her partner Kenny Kim also screamed, just before rolling against her and clinging in a fierce, tight hug, the two of them sobbing together uncontrollably.  
  
In London, England at the MI6 headquarters, Charlie Audley and an operative named Anthony Wyatt-Jones were heading towards a stairwell. Anthony startled at nothing and tripped and fell down a flight of stairs, spraining his ankle. An accident that would normally only be mildly upsetting turned him into a hyperventilating mess, trying desperately to pull himself together as Charlie hovered.  
  
_  
  
Maglor was pulling Sören out of the jeep now. Sören started to come to. He saw the wreck of the jeep and started to cry. "Oh god. Oh god I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry -"  
  
Huan was shaking, whining.  
  
"Ada, just..." Maglor was shaking as he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. "It's gonna be OK." But across their Force bond, they both knew that whatever had just happened was the opposite of OK. Maglor hit a number on speed dial and took a few steps away, nervously pacing around. Sören watched as Maglor said, "Charlie, hi, this is Mark Lowry." Sören blinked, always a bit startled at the name MI6 knew him by. "We got into a bit of an accident on the Ring Road and we need a ride home and to avoid dealing with the police if possible." There was Charlie's fast questions - her voice seemed unusually loud - and Maglor's assurance of "It was just our vehicle, we hit a pole, no other party, road is otherwise empty for now, but we want to clear out of here before anyone sees us." Maglor waited and Sören heard Charlie's voice and a male voice going back and forth, then Charlie's voice again, and a moment later Maglor was nodding and said, "Thanks, Charlie, you're the best."  
  
Sören sat down on the ground - he was tempted to just lay down. He felt as if he'd just died, yet somehow he was still alive. The first thing he did was reach out in the Force to poke Dooku, after seeing Fingolfin go up in a fireball. Dooku was definitely still alive, but that feeling of Not Okay was now running on an amplifier.  
  
Huan put his front paws on Sören's shoulders and began to lick Sören's face, the dog's eyes impossibly sad.  
  
" _What_ the bloody hell was that?" Sören asked.  
  
Maglor sat down next to Sören as Huan got down and went to him for pettings. "I think that was the Dagor Dagorath that was promised."  
  
Huan gave a long, pitiful whimper and hung his head, as if to confirm.  
  
"Well." Sören swallowed hard. From out of nowhere, he remembered the quote from the Trinity test of the Manhattan Project, and it came out of him now. "Now we are all sons of bitches."


	14. Ashes To Ashes

**Ashes To Ashes**

  
  
  
_I died, elsewhere._  
  
Dooku lost track of the time he'd been sitting there after spilling the tea. Usually he'd be prompt about cleaning up a spill, not wanting to stain his clothing or anything else the tea got on. And instead, he was sitting there in a state of shock, trembling, heart racing, head dizzy. If he hadn't taken the blood from Vanimórë over a year ago he'd be wondering if he was having a heart attack. If he was at death's door.  
  
Instead, it was another version of him that died. An older, more powerful version - Fingolfin. He had felt, for an instant, like he was going up in flame. Like the way Fëanor had died, but worse. Far worse.  
  
He didn't know what the rest of the outcome of the Dagorath in Vanimórë and Edenel and Kol's world was, he just knew that Fingolfin was gone. And though it was elsewhere, and his prior incarnation, it nonetheless felt very, very present, like a piece of Dooku's own soul had died. There was a hollow, weary, hopeless feeling now.  
  
He was only sort of snapped out of the shock when he heard a truck pulling up in front of the house. He'd vaguely been aware of his cell phone going off and hadn't answered it, too much in a state of shock for it to fully register, for him to move his body and find the words to answer it. He looked out the window - finally moving part of his body - and he watched as Sören and Maglor got out of the truck. He blinked with surprise.  
  
Sören and Maglor came in slowly, heads hung, looking like they'd just been through something awful. Huan let out a whine, and trotted off to the kitchen for water. Then Sören and Maglor paused, and looked at Dooku for a minute - looking, not saying anything - and Dooku looked at them, trying to refocus his attention on the men he loved instead of that feeling of devastation, desolation.  
  
And then Sören and Maglor rushed over to him. Sören fell on his knees with a sob and his arms wrapped around Dooku, holding him so tight it almost hurt.  
  
"Nico," Sören wept. "Oh god. Nico..." He began to rock Dooku, his breath coming in shuddery gasps and then Sören was just wailing, keening, tears flooding his cheeks as he buried his face in Dooku's chest. "Nico. _Nico..._ "  
  
Dooku looked in Maglor's eyes, wanting to weep himself at the haunted look in them, the grief on Maglor's face. He found himself reaching out to touch Maglor's face, stroke his cheek, pet his hair as the glamour dropped, hair falling from the middle of his back to his thighs. And then Maglor broke as well, taking Dooku's hand and kissing it before he clung, sobbing on Dooku's shoulder.  
  
"So you felt something," Dooku choked out, his voice raspy.  
  
Sören nodded. He picked his head up - the look of pain on his face, the sadness in those sweet brown eyes made Dooku want to rip his own heart out to make Sören feel better. "Felt. Saw. You..." Sören couldn't say it. He broke again, falling apart, howling.  
  
"I know." Dooku closed his eyes and let out a shuddery sigh. "Fingolfin died in the Dagorath. I don't know about the others, but..."  
  
"I would be very surprised if Fëanor survived... his... my... reaction to your death." Sören said it and then he wept some more, shaking, gasping for breath. He was ugly, messy crying now, getting snot all over his face and all over Dooku's shirt. Maglor used the Force to bring over a box of tissues. "It was like a nuke going off, Nico. And..." Sören closed his eyes, winced, and when he opened them, he said, "I could feel that too. Nothing else mattered to him, after he lost you."  
  
Dooku's own tears spilled, silently. He looked out the window - looked not at anything in particular, but far away... reliving Fingolfin's final moments in the life he remembered Fingolfin had in this world, where he'd stood against Morgoth. His rage for his beloved Fëanor, all that he had lost - nothing left to lose. As he fell, he had a vision of Fëanor, bringing him comfort as his broken body gave out, drew its last breath. In the Prime universe, Fingolfin had been resurrected, had ascended, had gotten more time with Fëanor.  
  
But not enough. They had tried to take down Morgoth once and for all, and Fingolfin had once again fallen, this time even more gruesomely than before. No doubt, Fëanor would react. The question was _how_. What did that mean for everyone else.  
  
The look of madness in Sören's eyes - the hysteria he could feel rising in Sören, across their bond - made Dooku afraid of the answer to that question.  
  
The sharp pain of knowing he'd lost to Morgoth a second time - and this time it had likely cost Fëanor his life as well - faded and was once again replaced by that awful numb, hollow, dead-inside feeling. Dooku felt almost like he was hearing the words come out of someone else when he spoke again. "You came here in a tow truck," he said matter-of-factly.  
  
Sören and Maglor looked at each other, Sören took a deep breath, and they nodded.  
  
"We got into a little accident," Maglor said. "Hit a pole."  
  
"By we he means me," Sören said. "The vision just... _seized_ me. I had no control over it, it took control of me... I lost control of the jeep." Sören cried. "I'm so sorry."  
  
"A vehicle is replaceable," Dooku said, taking Sören's hands. "You are not."  
  
"Neither are you." Sören started to cry again, quivering against Dooku, such broken tears that it brought Dooku out of that numb place just a little and he started to cry again as well.  
  
"No one else was on the road," Maglor said, taking a tissue to wipe Dooku's eyes, his face. "Just us. I called Charlie to do some emergency cleanup - she used the GPS on my phone to send a tow truck out to us, and also, ah... a couple of field operatives to take care of the wreck. The jeep wasn't totalled but Charlie doesn't want there to be any evidence of an accident so... we're going to have to get a new vehicle."  
  
"Jesus." Dooku was still continually amazed and unnerved by the cloak-and-dagger nature of their existence these days.  
  
"When we've had some time to decompress," Maglor said, getting up, "we'll go to a rental, take a few days before we go to a dealership for a new jeep." He took Dooku's tea mug and walked out to the kitchen.  
  
Maglor made more tea, and somehow, the three of them ended up on the couch, Dooku in the middle with Maglor and Sören on either side of him. Dooku sipped his tea but again, he felt like an automaton, his body leaden, feeling as if he were going through the motions and any sensory input - the heat of the tea, the scent, the taste - were dulled and he was experiencing it vicariously.  
  
Sören's hysteria had exhausted itself... for now. He was still shedding silent tears, looking utterly lost. His voice sounded tired and ancient when he said, "Everything fucking _hurts._ "  
  
"Yes," Maglor said. "Yes it does." He sipped his tea and frowned. "I can't be positive, but I think I died too." He closed his eyes and then he let out a sob - Maglor, who had tried to be calm and pull everyone together, was now breaking himself. "I can't hear the Song. It just... it just stopped. It's so _quiet_..."  
  
And that, _that_ wounded Dooku as well, like adding insult to injury. It was bad enough to know the Prime universe's Fingolfin was gone, to feel it, to know Fëanor had probably sacrificed himself to take out Melkor in the throes of his grief for Fingolfin. But to lose the Song also...  
  
"No," Sören sobbed, and then he started to cry even harder than before, prostrating himself on the floor, screaming, kicking. "No..."  
  
Dooku covered his face in his hands. He had felt Fingolfin go up in flames, unbearable heat that would have made him shriek if he had been capable of making sounds as the terror engulfed him, stole his very breath. Now everything was cold. So cold. And dark, the world fading away...  
  
  
_  
  
  
Dooku had only the vaguest memory of getting in his pajamas and retreating to bed - again, as if his mind and body had been separated, disconnected somehow. He felt the link re-form somewhat when his body stirred him to go to the bathroom, and then he crawled back in bed between Maglor and Sören. Snúdur, Pumpkin, Rasputin and Huan were all on the bed with them, as if they were keeping vigil.  
  
Sometime later, Sören mumbled, "I should feed them."  
  
Dooku sat up slowly and nodded. "Perhaps we should eat something as well." He rubbed his face - his mouth felt dry. Every bone in his body ached, and he had a dull headache... if he wasn't immune to colds and flu now, he would think he was coming down with something. "I don't feel like cooking."  
  
"Neither do I," Maglor said.  
  
Sören looked at the time. "We could order, like, pizza." He scowled. "I'm not hungry."  
  
"I'm not either," Dooku admitted, "but we should at least have some water."  
  
"I'll get up," Sören said. He climbed out of bed, and the cats and dog followed him to the kitchen, as if they knew what was happening.  
  
Dooku heard the sound of cans of food being opened, and a bag of dry food being shaken out, the sink being run. A few minutes later Sören came back with a pitcher of ice water and drinking glasses, and took a moment to stretch - Dooku noticed Sören was in his pajamas too - before he got back in bed.  
  
They all had some water, and Dooku listened to the cats and dog eating in the kitchen, the sound of which was strangely comforting, a sort of constant that he needed right now when the entire world seemed to have spun off its axis. When the cats and dog came back and got on the bed, Dooku snuggled between Sören and Maglor, with Maglor spooning him from behind, Sören's face in Dooku's chest, their arms tight around him. Dooku held one of Maglor's hands, and pet Sören with the other. The touch was grounding, soothing, and yet he still felt out of it, not all "there" yet.  
  
He lay there in a dazed, half-asleep state, sometimes more awake and alert, sometimes more foggy and drifting. He had never felt more exhausted in his life, except when he'd had the flu in early 2018.  
  
Just before sleep could overtake him completely, Sören's cell phone went off. Sören growled and grumbled, " _Hvað í fokk._ " Dooku watched Sören use the Force to pull his phone over, and his eyes widened at the number on the screen. "Dagnýr! _Hvað segirðu_?"  
  
Dooku faded again, only sort of listening to Sören on the phone, speaking Icelandic rapid-fire, voice rising and falling. It was a beautiful language and Dooku would normally be happy to listen to Sören speak it all day, but the distress in Sören's voice was setting him on edge, and when he heard the word "Eyjafjallajökull" and then "Katla" some seconds later, Dooku's eyes snapped open and he was fully awake. The conversation didn't last much longer, with a lot of "jæja" and "já" and finally Sören said " _Ég elska þig líka_ ," before he hit End.  
  
Sören took a few deep breaths.  
  
"That was Dagnýr?" Dooku asked, even though he knew from hearing his name at the beginning.  
  
Sören nodded. "You know that with, ah, Matt around, he usually speaks English on the phone unless it's bad." Sören frowned. "It's bad."  
  
"He felt it, didn't he?" Maglor asked.  
  
Sören nodded. "He called to make sure I was OK... that we were OK. There's only so much we can get into it over the phone, Charlie wants us to be careful and I'd be careful anyway, but... he fainted at the university. He got sent to the emergency room, they did some tests, he's 'fine', but we know, of course, he's not fine. He's about as fine as we are."  
  
"Oh dear." Dooku felt a little pang - he liked his brother-in-law, and he didn't like the thought of Dag sharing in the horror.  
  
"He..." Sören blinked slowly. "He said that on the news, Eyjafjallajökull erupted today, and there are predictions that Katla is going to erupt. It's not _as_ catastrophic as, say, Laki going off, but it's still..."  
  
"Very non-trivial, will affect the weather, the air quality, not just for us, but for England and a lot of Europe, possibly also North America," Maglor said. Maglor's brow furrowed. "That earthquake we felt..."  
  
"Dag gave the time of the Eyjafjallajökull eruption from the news, it wasn't that long after the quake. Which means it coincided with..." Sören's voice trailed off and he looked down, his hands shaking. He took a few more deep breaths, but then his attempt to keep calm failed and he ended up falling apart again, hyperventilating, sobbing.  
  
Dooku ushered Sören out of bed, got out himself, then picked Sören up, put him in the middle, and crushed Sören against him. Maglor snuggled up closer to Sören and they held him, rocked him. Dooku felt tears come to his eyes again, as well as a frisson down his spine, gooseflesh breaking over his arms. What they felt hadn't been a collective hallucination, but something _real_ , and it was severe enough that the Earth herself cried out, the fires in her heart raging for the injustice done to the Spirit of Fire and his kin.  
  
Dooku had the sickening feeling that this was just the beginning. That even though the Dagor Dagorath had been in another universe - he was still alive here, as was Maglor, as was Sören - that it had been _felt_ so strongly meant that some sort of fabric of reality had gotten ripped, and a chain reaction had been set off. Dooku had no idea what was going to happen, but something told him the eruption of Eyjafjallajökull and the imminent eruption of Katla was just the start of the labor pains.  
  
  
_  
  
  
It rained all weekend, and Sören, Maglor, and Dooku spent most of the weekend sleeping, or half-sleeping, only getting up to visit the restroom, feed the animals, or drink; Maglor took Huan out to the yard, quick trips, when Huan had to go.  
  
By Sunday night, they knew they had to pull themselves together at least a little bit. They took turns in the shower - getting right back into pajamas - and Sören called for pizza, not the healthiest thing in the world but it was something. While they waited for the pizza to arrive, Sören changed the catbox, making faces, and then Sören washed up, and Dooku heard him crying as he doubled over the sink and he came over, wrapping his arms around Sören from behind, pulling him up and rubbing his nose in Sören's curls, breathing in the lavender scent of Sören's shampoo.  
  
Dooku had Sören sit on his lap until the pizza came. Once it arrived, Sören sat between Dooku and Maglor on the couch, the three of them huddled in a blanket heap even though it wasn't particularly cold in the house, but the world felt cold and the warmth was reassuring. None of the three of them were quite hungry yet, despite not having really eaten since Friday, but they nibbled at the pizza nonetheless, and Huan and the cats begged until Maglor distracted them with treats.  
  
When they had enough, and put the rest of the pizza in the fridge, Sören looked at the clock and winced.  
  
"I have classes tomorrow," Sören said, "and I... I can't."  
  
"Tell them you need to take another week off," Maglor said.  
  
"But I already took all of last week off."  
  
"Yes, and you gave family emergency as the reason. They don't run on a schedule. You're entitled to say you need more time."  
  
"If I do this," Sören said, "it looks bad. I get what you're saying, but you and I are going to lose students if we take more time off. It doesn't inspire confidence that we're going to open up again."  
  
"You already said you can't," Maglor said, giving him a stern look. "If we lose students... oh well. We have to take care of ourselves right now."  
  
Sören used the Force to bring over his laptop and Dooku watched as Sören typed up an announcement and an e-mail letting his students know he and "Alejandro" would need an additional week to deal with the family emergency. When everything was sent out, Sören buried his face in his hands, and Dooku put an arm around him.  
  
"Macalaurë is right," Dooku said. "None of us are in a state right now to handle dealing with the outside world."  
  
"Jæja, I get that. It's just..." Sören let out a sharp exhale and pinched the bridge of his nose. Then he looked at Dooku, their eyes met, and Sören's eyes were so sad that it made Dooku tear up, desperately wishing there was something, anything he could do to make Sören feel better. Make all three of them feel better. But Dooku couldn't offer false platitudes, false assurances. Sören closed his eyes and then he blinked slowly, eyes brimming again. "It feels so _final._ "  
  
"It's just a week," Dooku said. "We take a week off, to feel, to mourn, and then we try to remember that... that life goes on. We try to get back to normal."  
  
But even as those words came out of his mouth, they felt like lies.  
  
 _"Life goes on" only works when a part of your soul isn't dead._


	15. Dust To Dust

**Dust To Dust**

  
  
  
On Monday, October twelfth, Margrét called Sören - confirming with what little could safely be said over the phone that she, too, felt something, and that Frankie had fainted at the grocery store. She and Frankie were OK, for some measure of OK, but they were pretty rattled. As far as Sören had been told, Findis and Lalwen had never existed in the Prime universe - Finwë had only had his three sons there - but they would have still felt it, with their connections to everyone who was in the Dagorath.  
  
"Do you guys need to come to Akureyri and stay with us for a bit?" Sören asked.  
  
"No," Margrét said. "I'm still going to work, trying to muddle through."  
  
"Jæja... that makes one of us."  
  
Margrét took a deep breath. "You know, you could come down to Reykjavik and stay with me if you needed to..."  
  
"I'll manage up here."  
  
"OK." And then after a long pause, Margrét said, "If he... comes back... do call me as soon as..."  
  
"I will."  
  
The fact that it was even an "if" - that there was a possibility Kol hadn't made it - brought tears to Sören's eyes, brought back that crushing weight of despair, that feeling that all hope was lost. After the call with his sister ended, Sören tried to go back to bed, burrowing under the covers, wanting to shut out the world. And then, a little while later, his phone went off again. It was Ari.  
  
"Ari, hi!" Sören gave a nervous laugh. "How are you?"  
  
"Eh, not so good." Ari made a little noise.  
  
"Oh no. Are you OK? Is Harrison OK?" Sören made a tsk. "The two of you didn't fight or anything -"  
  
"No, Harrison and I are still together, Sören, that's pretty solid. It's just been, you know, a rough few days." Ari exhaled sharply. "I had a panic attack on Friday."  
  
Sören pinched the bridge of his nose. Aragorn wasn't even alive in the Prime universe. On the other hand, Ari had some degree of Force-bondedness with his cousins, so it wasn't outside the realm of possibility that he'd felt the empathic blowback all the way in Scotland. "Right around the time Eyjafjallajökull went off?"  
  
"Apparently. You know that's probably going to set off Katla."  
  
"I heard that, yes."  
  
"And if Katla erupts, that'll impact air travel, and that'll impact the bed-and-breakfast... well anyway, that's first world problems -"  
  
"No, that's your livelihood, Ari, I can understand being anxious." But of course, they both knew Ari wasn't having anxiety just because of that - and if worse came to worse, Sören had enough of a reserve from Van that he could send his cousin money if necessary.  
  
"Very anxious." Ari gave a little chuckle that Sören could feel had no humor in it. "Feels like an apocalypse is happening."  
  
"Yeah, _no shit._ " Sören made a noise. "Definitely very ominous."  
  
"How are you holding up?"  
  
Sören snorted. "I haven't, ah, been feeling well the last few days. I think Maglor, Nico and I all, um, came down with something." That was coded where Ari would understand well enough, without Sören being able to get into it over the phone.  
  
"Well, you know, when volcanoes go off, it kicks up a lot of shit into the air. Like... ashes. And dust." Ari chuckled again but Sören could hear a little note of hysteria at the end of it, and he got the mental image of Harrison watching the conversation and Ari mouthing "they felt it too" to him.  
  
"Harrison wants to talk to you," Ari said then, confirming to Sören that he was seeing correctly. Before Sören could agree or protest, Harrison's voice came on the phone. "Hey, Sören," Harrison said.  
  
"Harrison. Bro." Sören tried to effect false cheer to keep the panic at bay. "How's it going?"  
  
"It goes. So, uh... that volcano, it was pretty intense, huh?"  
  
"Yeah, Ari said it's like, you know, an apocalypse. That seems about right." Sören frowned. "How is my cousin, really? He says he had a panic attack on Friday, and he sounds like he's stressed but it's always probably worse than it sounds."  
  
"Well, he's been making himself get out of bed and handle the usual chores, the guests at the bed-and-breakfast... our routine hasn't been disrupted too much."  
  
"And you're hanging in there?"  
  
"I've been worried about Ari and, uh, you guys in Iceland, but I didn't have a panic attack on Friday like Ari did, if that's what you're asking."  
  
That didn't quite surprise Sören. "Look out for him, OK? Don't let him get too caught up in worrying about stuff."  
  
"OK. And that goes for you too, Sören. You know, you could come visit us in Scotland if things get too stressful..."  
  
"I know. I'll... ah. Keep you posted." As much as the offer of staying in picturesque St. Andrews and seeing Ari and Harrison was tempting, Sören felt like he'd be running from life even more than he was, and dumping his problems on other people. Not to mention the logistics of them having animals - it would be a pain in the ass to get them to Scotland, and then they'd have to be quarantined for a month on Hrísey upon their return.  
  
"It's a standing offer. Doesn't have to be immediate. Anyway, we miss you and we'd like to see you sometime."  
  
"Thank you, I miss you guys too and would like to see you again." _Of course, that involves me being a functional adult and I've been in pajamas since Friday._  
  
"Here's Ari."  
  
"Hi," Ari said when he got back on the phone. "So he had no luck in convincing you guys to come visit?"  
  
"Not right away, no."  
  
"I know it's only October, but you were planning on going to Toronto to see Dag for Christmas, right?"  
  
"Right."  
  
"So at least we'll see you then."  
  
"You will." And then Sören facepalmed. "Oh my god, your birthday's on Thursday. I'm sorry..."  
  
"No, it's OK, I didn't expect you guys to be able to come out for my birthday."  
  
Sören still felt guilty - if he hadn't been so wound up with the impending Dagorath he would have at least arranged to buy Ari something and have it shipped out to him. "God. I feel so shitty now. You've always been more of a brother than a cousin, I don't want you to feel like you're not important to me..."  
  
"Sören, it's OK. I seriously didn't call to guilt you about my birthday. I know you've had, ah, stuff going on - I'd talked to Margrét earlier this month."  
  
"That's still not an excuse. _I almost forgot your birthday._ And I haven't even gotten you anything... god, Ari, I'm so sorry..."  
  
"Sören, chill. It's OK. Really. This phone call wasn't about my birthday. Besides which, even if you guys had been able to come out, uh... Harrison has plans for me, so I'd be pretty scarce." Ari snickered. "Scotland's about to get its own volcanic eruption. Two volcanoes, spurting everywhere..."  
  
Sören managed to crack a smile at that and, for the first time in days, produced genuine laughter. "Thanks for sharing."  
  
"See, I can be terrible too."  
  
"Jæja, now I need brain bleach, thanks."  
  
"Now you have something to cry about that isn't, you know, the apocalypse! See, I helped! I was helpful!"  
  
"Jæja, fuck you." Sören laughed again. It felt good. "I should let you go now."  
  
"Yeah, I'm gonna go now. See if I can cause an earthquake that'll help set off that eruption in a few days..."  
  
"Hi Gonna Go Now, See If I Can -"  
  
The phone call ended. Sören laughed again as he stared at the screen on his phone.  
  
Then the laughter quickly turned to tears. Knowing this had even impacted Ari, and right before his birthday... Sören felt guilty again, and he felt even guiltier when he realized he didn't know if they'd be getting together at Christmas, now, depending on if Katla went off and had an effect on air travel...  
  
 _If Katla went off because of the cataclysm_ you _caused. Great job, you just fuck up everything, don't you? Couldn't finish med school, can't run your art school, the only thing you're able to do is let people down. You ruined your cousin's birthday, Christmas is about to be ruined, you couldn't save Fingolfin, then you destroyed a world..._  
  
Sören growled. _Shut it, we don't know that world was actually destroyed._  
  
But he had a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, nonetheless. Hoping that thought was wrong, that it was just paranoia and self-loathing and not the truth. And yet...  
  
Sören threw his phone across the room, hard enough that the battery popped out. " _Fokk þetta kjaftæði. Til helvítis með mér. Helvítis fjandans líf mitt. Til helvítis með öllu. Fjandinn sé heimurinn, fjandinn allir -_ "  
  
Dooku walked in and used the Force to pick Sören's phone and battery off the floor, popped the battery back in and closed the back panel of the phone, then came over and handed it to Sören. Then, without saying anything - nothing needed to be said - he put his arms around Sören, pulled Sören close to him, Sören leaning against his chest and stomach, shaking with silent tears.  
  
After holding Sören for a few minutes, Dooku pulled back - his own eyes too bright with unshed tears - and he asked, "Can I do anything to help?"  
  
Sören shrugged. "I just feel so... _useless_ right now. Like I'm stuck in this holding pattern. I'm definitely not ready to resume classes - I hate it, I still feel like I'm letting everyone down, I still feel like it's... like the shutdown is somehow final instead of temporary. But I can't get from where I am right now, to going back and facing everyone, everything..." Sören swallowed hard, and rubbed his head, rubbed his beard. "I need. I don't know what I need. Something other than staying in bed all the time."  
  
Dooku nodded. "Little steps." He glanced at Sören, then at the bed. "Well, if you want to get out of bed for awhile, Macalaurë took Huan for a walk, we can do laundry, including the bedding."  
  
Sören and Dooku stripped the bed, and put on fresh linens. They carried the bedding down to the pantry, and then went for the clothes hamper, separating the clothing. The bedding went in the wash first, and Dooku set a timer.  
  
When Maglor came back with Huan, the animals were fed, and Dooku decided the people needed to eat as well. Nobody really had an appetite still but they hadn't eaten much at all since the Dagorath was felt on Friday, and even if their bodies could endure more than the average human, they nonetheless needed fuel. There was some leftover pizza in the fridge, and Dooku rummaged in the fridge and pantry for something to go with it.  
  
"We're going to have to go grocery shopping tomorrow," Dooku said with a frown as he sat between Sören and Maglor.  
  
"That means getting a rental car," Sören said. "I mean, we could just go buy a new jeep right away, but..."  
  
"We'd still need a rental to go for the jeep, unless we took a taxi, and it's the sort of major expenditure that I'd prefer to undertake informed," Dooku said. "Comparing features between models, such as fuel efficiency, safety..."  
  
"Jæja," Sören huffed, feeling a touch bristly. Normally he didn't mind Dooku's tendency to be thorough, his eye for detail - a holdover from his days as a barrister, wanting to carefully examine everything, weigh the evidence - but right now it felt like a slap in the face, one more reminder that Dooku was better at being a functional adult; Sören would have just picked a jeep based on looks and perhaps brand reputation. Sören looked down at his bunny slippers, feeling like a ridiculous, overgrown manchild eating cold pizza in his pajamas, having to discuss the particulars of replacing a jeep because of an accident that was his fault...  
  
 _...because of a cataclysm that was my fault..._  
  
"Sören, it's fine." Dooku looked into Sören's eyes with concern. "But... let's plan to get the rental tomorrow, go to the store, get the new jeep later in the week. As I told you..." He reached out to rub Sören's shoulder. "Little steps. We don't have to do everything all at once, and indeed, we shan't, because even the smallest thing feels like a dramatic undertaking right now."  
  
Maglor nodded solemnly. Sören _hurt_ when he looked at Maglor, saw the pain in his eyes, the pinched look on his face.  
  
"It's still pretty bad for you, isn't it?" Sören asked.  
  
Maglor looked down, and then he gave a small nod. "It's bad enough knowing that Fingolfin died - again. That he was resurrected and reunited with my father just for it to come to this. At the hands of _Morgoth._ " He winced, and Sören felt the unvoiced cry, the way Maglor broke inside all over again thinking about it. "They may not be the ones of this world, the ones I knew..."  
  
"...But yet, across worlds, Fingolfin is Fingolfin is Fingolfin," Dooku said, his voice raspy with emotion, taking Maglor's hand and squeezing it.  
  
"And Fëanor is Fëanor is Fëanor," Sören said. "I am not him but... he is still me. Each of us, across the multiverse, is like one facet of a larger gem... one piece of a greater whole. Wound one of us and we all bleed. And that affects the bonds we have with each other, as well."  
  
Maglor exhaled sharply. " _Yes._ " Maglor looked up and there was such grief on his face that Sören's tears spilled over, silently, mourning with him. "And I'm very certain that version of me died as well. I can't prove it, but." He looked away again. "The Song went with him. It's still gone. And it's..." He closed his eyes and shuddered, held his stomach as if it ached. "It's an emptiness, that still feels like an unbearable weight. The silence is as loud as a scream."  
  
"Oh, _Maglor._ " Sören's tears were less silent now.  
  
Sören came over to Maglor's side of the couch, got on his knees, lay his head in Maglor's lap, and held him as tightly as he could. Dooku put an arm around Maglor and his other arm went around Sören, petting his curls. The three of them rocked together, crying.  
  
"I feel so _lost_ ," Maglor said, his voice shaking. "Even when my family died, one by one, eons ago, I made myself keep going. Even when I lost my mortal partners, friends... even you, Sören, I made myself keep going. Kept the Song alive, kept the memory alive. And now..."  
  
"We just get through each day," Dooku said. "Each hour. We still have each other, that's the important thing."  
  
But Sören could tell from the haunted look on Dooku's face - and feeling Dooku's own pain, despite Dooku's best attempts to shield it, it was broadcasting loudly, like glass had shattered and the sound of it was still echoing, the edges sharp, cutting. He was trying to be strong for them - _Fingolfin the brave, Fingolfin the valiant, to the bitter end,_ Sören thought to himself - but Dooku was still a wreck inside, feeling badly shaken from what he'd seen and felt of Fingolfin's death, and knowing the implication of it... that if the strongest part of the whole, the ascended deity version of Fingolfin, had fallen, that didn't bode well for the rest of the Fingolfins and Dooku-Fingolfins across the multiverse.  
  
Sören shuddered. _We're going to have to ascend, to pick up the slack, fill that vacuum._ But they weren't ready to throw down the Valar, Sören wasn't ready to face Odin, Sören couldn't even face his students. He wanted to go back to bed, make a cave of blankets, and just _hide_.  
  
And after the laundry was done a couple of hours later - the time passed with not-watching TV, zoning out, only half paying attention to the news of the Eyjafjallajökull eruption and scientists reporting increased activity at Katla - that was exactly what Sören did, taking Dooku and Maglor with him to huddle together.  
  
  
_  
  
  
On Tuesday morning, Sören left the house for the first time in days, going on a little walk with Maglor, to take Huan out. They didn't go as far as they sometimes did, just through the neighborhood instead of into nearby downtown and back, but it still felt good to get some fresh air, see the outside world again.  
  
Sören opened the windows for a little while when he got home to get some air circulating in the house, showered and changed into a different set of clothes, grabbing the first clean jeans and T-shirt and long-sleeved shirt he had available without thinking of it. As he got dressed, Sören thought to himself that he should have done this before he went on the walk, but executive function didn't seem to be his strong suit right now. When he was fully dressed and brushed his teeth in the bathroom, it was hard to look at himself in the mirror - he had the same thousand-yard stare in his eyes that he'd seen last when he was newly split from Justin. This was an entirely different set of circumstances, but it still unsettled him, feeling as if he were right back at square one with his mental health, after having been solidly on the road to recovery the last few years.  
  
Sören tried to not dwell on it as he, Maglor, and Dooku sat out front waiting for the taxi. And when they went to the car rental, Sören made himself focus on the jeeps available.  
  
It was decided that the jeep would be put in Sören's name, since Dooku was seventy and some people thought seniors shouldn't be driving and Dooku wasn't about to alert anyone that he was far more than what he seemed, and Maglor produced his own documentations only when absolutely necessary to avoid any scrutiny that could potentially blow his cover. Any of the three of them could drive it, but as it was in Sören's name, the hovering salesperson seemed to expect Sören to be the one to drive it out of the lot.  
  
Sören got as far as a block away before he had to pull over, shaking and hyperventilating, his mind replaying the accident. Even though Sören was normally a careful driver and that accident had been under very specific circumstances, Sören's fight-or-flight response wasn't listening to logic, only the raw emotion of the memory of the accident.  
  
"I can't drive," Sören said.  
  
"I'll drive," Maglor said, patting Sören's shoulder.  
  
Maglor got in the driver's seat, Dooku got in the passenger's seat, and Sören got in back. Sören wanted to crawl in the trunk and hide, the insult of shame being added to the injury of panic and the lingering fallout from the Dagorath. Even though Maglor and Dooku were very nonchalant, not making a big deal out of it, not treating Sören like he had done anything wrong, Sören was angry with himself, hating being this weak and powerless, and he could hear Justin and Einar berating him in his head. _"Fucking crybaby." "BE A MAN!" "Pathetic." "This is why you're nobody, this is why you're nothing, and will never be anything!"_  
  
"I'll try again in a few days," Sören said through grit teeth. "Definitely when we get the new jeep."  
  
"You don't have to push yourself so hard," Maglor said softly. "It's understandable your brain is doing this to you right now -"  
  
"I do have to push myself, and don't you make _fucking_ excuses for me, Kanafinwë."  
  
Sören hadn't meant to be so harsh with Maglor - he didn't exactly need that right now - and Sören knew that if the situation were reversed and it were Maglor who was too spooked to drive, Sören would have compassion and not see it as weakness, but know it wasn't as if Maglor had chosen to have this response and it was OK for him to not do something that would cause additional stress. But Sören couldn't allow himself the same kindness and mercy. He was _furious_ with himself, feeling like he'd just taken a blow to his pride. It was bad enough that his family - like Dag - treated him as fragile because of his mental health issues, having attempted suicide in the past, having survived an abusive relationship years ago. He got tired of being seen as fragile, something to be coddled, pitied. He got tired of _being_ fragile.  
  
 _I am never going to be able to take down Odin and the Valar if I sit here crying like a fucking baby._  
  
Sören attempted to pull himself together as he, Maglor, and Dooku walked through the grocery store. He desperately wanted the normal, mundane, everyday act of grocery shopping to be comforting, grounding, a reminder that they were still alive, life went on for them in this world, that eventually things would get back to their baseline of "normal". And yet, the grocery shopping trip just reinforced for him that something had fundamentally changed, had been broken when the Dagorath hit - at least for now, but there was no way of seeing past that now, a bleak wasteland that seemed endless in its hopelessness.  
  
Sören didn't do much for the rest of the day. He couldn't make art - he wondered if his connection to art was gone much as Maglor's connection to the Song was gone - and he couldn't concentrate enough to read a book. He mindlessly played Stardew Valley and half-watched television, feeling restless and frustrated, yet not restless enough to be able to switch gears mentally. Every now and again he stole glances at Dooku, who was comparing different models of jeeps, a look of intense concentration on his face like he was making a life-or-death decision. It would have been comical to Sören - affectionately, he found it cute - except Sören was reminded of the panic attack in the rental jeep again, and once again felt a wave of shame and anger towards himself for not being able to "get back on the horse he'd fallen off of".  
  
When Dooku and Maglor set to work making dinner in the kitchen, Sören sat outside for awhile, watching the setting sun, hoping the beauty of the fire in the sky would soothe his frazzled nerves and perhaps re-spark his connection to art, to make something out of his pain as he had done many times before. But he just continued to feel the ache like a limb had been severed, like a piece of himself had been cut off.  
  
And he felt very, very tired.  
  
After dinner Sören went with Maglor to walk Huan again, and every step felt leaden; it wasn't long after their return that Sören went to bed, and Dooku and Maglor joined him, just as exhausted as he was.  
  
  
_  
  
  
On Wednesday, Dooku, Sören and Maglor spent the day housecleaning - not the most exciting task in the world, but one that needed to be done nonetheless. And though grocery shopping had been an unpleasant reminder of "normal", something that seemed beyond the pale to Sören at the time, the act of cleaning house was as soothing and familiar as Sören had hoped the shopping trip would be. Vacuuming, dusting, mopping the floors, scrubbing countertops and sinks and shower and toilet, cleaning the stove, had never been so welcome in Sören's life. Dooku, sensing the lift in mood somewhat, put on classic rock as they worked, and though Maglor still couldn't hear the Song, he seemed to relax just slightly with music playing.  
  
They were far from being back to where they were before the Dagorath was felt, but it was a start. And after dinner - the biggest meal they'd had in days, a roast chicken with savory herbed vegetables - Sören and Maglor took Huan for a walk downtown, which they hadn't done since before the Dagorath last week. As Sören looked up at the night sky and breathed in the crisp air, his breath steaming, he felt cautiously optimistic.  
  
But only cautiously.  
  
Sören and Maglor came back to Dooku researching jeeps again, and after Sören and Maglor had curled up for a bit binge-watching _Metalocalypse_ , Dooku joined them and said, "I think we can go shopping for a new vehicle tomorrow. I'll give Charlie a call to let her know how much money we need, and then maybe we can relax in the hot tub?"  
  
That was what they did after the phone call, sitting outside in the hot tub with wine. The three of them had not made love, together or separately, since before the Dagorath was felt on Friday. And though Sören admired his naked men and that was usually enough to get his libido stirring, all the activity of the day - more than Sören had done in days - had him exhausted, surprisingly so. Sören was used to having more energy since becoming immortal - if anything, an abundance of nervous hyperactivity - and he could not ever remember feeling so drained, not even when he had walking pneumonia years ago had he been this rundown. He felt a bit irritated with himself, wanting to snap out of it so he could offer himself to Dooku and Maglor, to give and take comfort in physical release for awhile, but at least he wasn't alone in his exhaustion, with Dooku and Maglor opting to accompany him to bed to sleep after the soak in the hot tub.  
  
They didn't get to sleep right away, though, and snuggled together, holding each other's hands. And Sören thought that maybe it was a positive sign that he was feeling a touch of frustration with himself for having no libido tonight - like he was starting to care about something again instead of disappearing into the apathy of grief. Again, there was that feeling of cautious optimism, hoping that tomorrow would be a better day.  
  
 _Little steps,_ Dooku's words echoed in his mind.  
  
  
_  
  
  
It was Thursday, October fifteenth, Ari's birthday.  
  
Sören started the day with a shower, then went with Maglor to walk Huan into downtown and back. When they were back at the house, Sören called Ari's cell phone. Ari didn't answer and it went to voice mail, which didn't surprise Sören - Ari did say Harrison had plans for him that day and was likely occupied - but Sören was a little disappointed anyway. He sang "Happy Birthday" in Icelandic on Ari's voice mail, blowing a raspberry at the end, and then he joined Dooku and Maglor for coffee, where they were going over jeep models one last time before heading out to the car dealership.  
  
Just like the rental had been put in Sören's name, the new jeep was put in Sören's name. Sören noticed that Dooku and Maglor had picked out something that was both similar enough to the old jeep for it to be driven without much re-adjustment, while different enough to the old one - the exterior was cobalt blue instead of black, the interior was a lighter grey than the charcoal grey interior of the previous jeep - that Sören suspected it had been deliberately chosen that way to not re-trigger Sören about the accident.  
  
Sören decided to give it a try in the parking lot, as Dooku took the rental by himself to return it, where Sören and Maglor would pick him up at the rental location. And where Sören had been able to get a block with the rental before having a panic attack and needing to pull over, he couldn't even back out of the parking lot this time, freezing once the ignition turned. He tried to push himself, but he shook and gasped for breath, and when Maglor reached out to comfort him, Sören roared, "Don't you fucking _feel sorry for me!_ " and found himself hopping out of the jeep and taking off in a run.  
  
He ran without having an idea of where he was going, just blind panic and rage, and eventually he sat and tried to pull himself together. He was a good distance away from the car dealership, and he thought about calling Maglor to tell him where he was, but then he saw the new jeep coming down the street slowly, and Maglor just pulled over, waiting.  
  
"I'm sorry -"  
  
Maglor grabbed Sören and hugged him tight.  
  
After hugging for a few minutes, rocking each other, both of them trembling against each other as they cried together, they pulled apart, and the look of sadness in Maglor's eyes broke Sören's heart.  
  
"I'm sorry," Sören said again. "You don't need this shit. You don't need shit from me, especially -"  
  
Maglor held up a hand. "Ada. I understand."  
  
"I sure as fuck don't." Sören pinched the bridge of his nose. "I shouldn't be freaking out like this. I never had an issue with driving before."  
  
"We never lived through feeling ourselves die before," Maglor said softly.  
  
Sören cried harder, loud and messy. Maglor pulled him close again, rubbed his nose in Sören's curls, planted a kiss on top of Sören's head. At last Maglor gave him a sweet, gentle kiss - their first kiss since the Dagorath. Sören's breath hitched.  
  
"I want to try again," Sören said.  
  
They switched places. Sören drove for two streets before he had to pull over, gasping for breath, sobbing. He beat the steering wheel, howling with grief and frustration.  
  
"I can't." Sören buried his face in his arms on the steering wheel, crying so hard and loud that he was screaming, keening. "I fucking can't. I can't drive anymore."  
  
"It's OK, Ada."  
  
"No, _it's not fucking okay._ Do you know how _powerless_ I feel right now?"  
  
"What I mean is..." Maglor took a deep breath. "Nicolae and I don't judge you for this. We don't pity you - sympathy, yes, but we don't think you're weak or pathetic or any of the lies you've been told, that you still tell yourself. If you _never_ drive again, we will still love you. We will still accept you."  
  
"Well..." Sören grit his teeth. "It certainly _feels_ like never. Or at least long enough that it might as well be never."  
  
Maglor nodded. He rubbed Sören's back, then Sören's head, petting his curls. "And I know that's rough on you."  
  
"It is. I mean sure, you and Nico can drive, and I can walk to where I need to go in town, take the bus if I have to go anywhere far and you guys can't take me. But that's not the point. I hate being dependent on other people. I hate not being able to do things. And..." Sören looked out the window. "On Fridays, when I'd have art classes but you don't have any music classes, I know you'd drive me but I'd feel like you were going out of your way, _yes, even if you tell me otherwise_ , and, and..." Sören shuddered, feeling the tears coming on again. "It's Thursday, and I'd be starting classes again on Monday, and I'm still... not..."  
  
"OK. Sören? When we get back, it's time for you to make another announcement, send another e-mail to your students. This time, tell them the studio is closed for the rest of the month. I'll handle making refunds to the people who need them, who were paid up by the month rather than by the week."  
  
Sören sobbed harder. "This is fucking bullshit."  
  
"You're not recovered enough to do your classes. Truth be told, _I'm_ not recovered enough to do mine. That's just the way things are. There's no use beating ourselves up for it."  
  
"You don't get it," Sören said.  
  
He closed his eyes and leaned back in the passenger's seat. His mind flashed back to spring 2018, when he and Dooku were temporarily separated - though Sören didn't know at the time it was temporary - and Margrét won her plagiarism suit against Kylo Ren and gave Sören a windfall to start his life over again. After vowing for years he would never return, Sören went back to Akureyri and it was there that Sören fulfilled his longtime dream of starting an art studio, with affordable and laid-back classes so those who wanted to come try their hand at different artistic mediums could do so. Sören hadn't been able to complete his internship for med school, having a breakdown after a patient died, where he ended up attempting suicide, and it had grated on him for years afterwards, feeling like a failure, not able to achieve his childhood dream - more like an obsession, a deep-rooted need born on the day his mother died. But after his suicide attempt Sören began to take his lifelong hobby of art more seriously, where it became more than just a hobby, and as he expressed himself through art and found it instrumental to his journey of recovery, he got the idea that if he couldn't be a doctor, this was still a way to help heal others - hearts and souls. He'd had a _purpose_ , since starting Logifugl Listaskóli in 2018, and he'd had the studio open for over two years - it had helped reconcile him to the hometown he'd left so bitterly, as well. Akureyri finally felt like home, and falling in love again with the land where he'd first been enchanted by beauty as a child, where it had become his religion, was also deeply healing for him. He had a sense of closure as well as purpose. And he had _pride_ , something he'd kept going this long. Something he hadn't quit, like he'd quit medicine.  
  
"I failed med school," Sören said. "Not grades, but putting it into practice, working at a hospital in rural western Iceland, where it was much slower and less high-pressure than it would be someplace like Reykjavik, and I still couldn't _fucking_ handle it when I couldn't help people, when people were beyond my help, when people fucking _died_. And now? Now I'm failing at this. Once again, Sören Sigurdsson is enough of a _fucking whack job_ that he drops out of doing something because he has a fucking breakdown. My dream of having this art studio, watching people create and express themselves and the way it helps them... all gone up in fucking flames. Poof. Gone. I fail at being an adult, Maglor. I fail at life. I'm almost thirty-six years old and I don't amount to anything, just like Einar said I never would -"  
  
"Sören, _stop._ That's not true at all." Maglor gestured to himself. "I don't exactly work a 'real' job either."  
  
"You had more money than God before I met you. You don't need to work."  
  
"No, but it's been largely because of that pesky detail of having to move around from place to place and have to be careful about what I do, what kind of trail I leave behind. I _would_ find something to do with myself - not for the money, but for something to pass the time, which I happen to have a lot of. And that's a big reason why I don't. But for the last year or so, your studio gave me something to do. I got to teach music to other people, which..." Maglor sighed. "Was more fulfilling to me than you may know."  
  
"I think I get it, at least a little. Just... with art, on my end."  
  
Maglor nodded. "And now I can't. Because the Song is gone. But even if the Song returns?" Maglor closed his eyes, and when he opened them, they were full of tears. "I can't handle people right now. I feel too fragile, after everything. And this is after all I've seen and done, and had done to me, in my life. I've lost family. I've lost partners, friends. I was imprisoned, tortured, more than once, different circumstances, different captors, traumatic just the same. I've been in wars, plural. And none of that has broken me. I've made myself keep going. But this..." Maglor's breath came out in a shuddery gasp, as tears slowly slid down his cheeks. "I feel like I'm drowning, Sören."  
  
"Then hang onto me." Sören clung to Maglor, kissing his tears.  
  
"But that means you have to stay afloat too." Maglor gave him a stern look. "And when you get like this... when you hate yourself for being 'weak'..."  
  
"I don't judge you."  
  
"Then you shouldn't judge yourself either. Because a part of you, is in me."  
  
Sören desperately grasped at levity. "Well, not at the moment, but it could be, later."  
  
As soon as the words were out of Sören's mouth, and Maglor's eyes widened, and he started shaking again, Sören had a few seconds of worrying that he'd finally taken his jokes too far, that he'd crossed a line that he wouldn't be able to get back on the right side of. But then he saw that Maglor's tears and trembling came for a different reason now, Maglor turning bright red, and he flashed Sören a grin before his laughter rang out - sincere laughter, his eyes laughing with him - and relief flooded Sören.  
  
"Don't ever change." Maglor kissed the tip of Sören's nose. Then he started the jeep again, and pulled out from the curb, onto the street.  
  
Sören thought they would go straight home after that, but Maglor took a detour, pulling in front of an ice cream parlor. Sören looked at the clock - it was only just after eleven in the morning, not noon yet, and they hadn't eaten breakfast.  
  
"We're having ice cream for breakfast," Maglor explained, "so we can fail at being adults even harder."  
  
Now it was Sören's turn to laugh, and he gave Maglor a little kiss. Or what was meant to be a little kiss, and quickly deepened, heated, their lips parting, tongues meeting, slowly twirling together, teasing, the promise of perhaps more later. When they pulled back they were both breathing harder, and Maglor's silver eyes had darkened, like molten mercury, giving Sören that intense look of lust he was all too familiar with. Sören felt a frisson down his spine, his cock twinging for the first time in days.  
  
But before they could get themselves in too much trouble, Maglor pulled Sören out of the jeep and marched him into the ice cream shop, right up to the counter to look at the different varieties of ice cream and make a decision. Sören ended up going for strawberry ice cream with rainbow sprinkles, while Maglor got a scoop of chocolate and a scoop of coffee. They sat outdoors on a bench, even though it was a chilly October day, and Sören leaned on Maglor, the tension slowly rolling out of his body. After a little while Maglor took Sören's hand and just the simple act was soothing - as well as arousing. Maglor seemed to sense the lust rising in Sören, and glanced over, a naughty look on his face as he took a slow, deliberate lick at his ice cream. As long as they'd been together, Maglor could still make Sören fluttery and flustered, and it happened again now, Sören's face burning as he made an involuntary preening gesture in response to Maglor's teasing - one that made Sören accidentally hit himself in the nose with ice cream.  
  
Maglor laughed, and then he leaned in to lick the ice cream off Sören's nose. As ridiculous as the gesture was, it made Sören hard, wanting to feel that tongue other places. And when their ice cream was finished, Maglor kissed him right there in public, so passionately that it took Sören every ounce of restraint he had to not throw Maglor down on the sidewalk and ride him for the world to see.  
  
Sören and Maglor behaved themselves for the ride home, but as soon as they got back to the house and set foot in the door they began kissing feverishly, undressing each other right there. Sören heard the sink running in the bathroom, and Dooku stepped out into the hall just in time to watch Sören's shirt come off, Maglor running his hands over the exposed flesh.  
  
"Well," Dooku said, a touch of amusement in his voice. "I was wondering where you two had been -"  
  
Sören grabbed Dooku and kissed him hard. Dooku blinked with surprise and turned beetroot - after nearly three years, that he could still be so downright bashful amused Sören. But then Dooku responded to the kiss with a groan and kissed back with all the passion and fire in him, hungry for not having had sex in close to a week. When Sören and Dooku pulled apart, Dooku only had a few seconds to catch his breath before Maglor kissed him. Watching Maglor and Dooku kiss was always an erotic sight to Sören, and it seemed now moreso than ever, never taking them for granted. Sören's cock twinged and Sören took one of Dooku's hands and guided it to the hard bulge in his jeans.  
  
"This is what you do to me," Sören rasped, starting to kiss Dooku's neck, making Dooku groan into the kiss with Maglor. "And you," Sören said to Maglor, tilting Maglor's face to kiss him again as soon as Maglor and Dooku pulled back.  
  
Sören and Maglor marched Dooku to the bedroom and now they were undressing him too, Dooku chuckling at their urgency, then moaning as their hands slid over him, feeling the need in their touch, that desire to touch, feel, _possess_.  
  
The three fell on the bed together, naked, and Sören shoved Dooku on his back against the pillows. Sören kissed him again, hard and breathless, and then Maglor kissed Dooku, and then Dooku looked up at them with love in his eyes - and sadness - and husked, "Make me feel alive again."  
  
Sören and Maglor happily obliged. They took turns kissing him some more as their hands played over Dooku's body, tracing the sculpted muscles, fingers running through his silver chest hair and the nicely furred arms and thighs. Sören's fingers "accidentally" brushed the bush and he smirked as he felt Dooku's already hard cock jolt, and Sören crinkled his nose and bit his lower lip as his fingers "accidentally" brushed the silken steel of his cock.  
  
After kissing him again and again, Sören and Maglor were hungry for more. They kissed down either side of Dooku's neck, to his shoulders, down to his nipples. Dooku moaned and arched to them as they licked and sucked his nipples at the same time, Sören also moaning as he watched Dooku's cock jolt again, as he felt the pleasure and teasing excitement across their bond. Sören and Maglor feasted until Dooku let out an undignified cry, followed by a shuddery sigh and a little sob of " _Please_." Then they kissed down the center and sides of his chest, tongues licking the chest hair, Sören getting aroused by the feel of it, rubbing his nose in it, arousal deepening as he breathed in the clean, masculine scent of him.  
  
Their kisses trailed lower, to his stomach, hips, and thighs. Sören and Maglor began to use their teeth, nibbling on him between licks and kisses, Sören and Maglor smiling at each other at the way Dooku writhed beneath them, his moans louder, feeling him quiver.  
  
They hovered over his cock, which was leaking precum. Sören's tongue laved the slit, and, making sure Dooku watched him gather precum onto his tongue, Sören kissed Maglor, their tongues playfully, sensually rubbing together between kisses, making a show of sharing the taste of their lover. Now Maglor needed a taste directly, lapping the slit, the head. And then, after another kiss where he shared with Sören, they started to lick the hard, throbbing cock together, from the head down the shaft and back up again, as Dooku clutched at their heads and moaned and sighed, Sören's cock pulsing at the sounds he made, the look on his face as he surrendered to their loving care.  
  
Greedy for him, Sören took Dooku's cock into his mouth as Maglor came up to kiss him, and then Sören groaned around the cock in his mouth, not able to keep from touching himself as he watched Maglor work over Dooku's body again, hands rubbing and caressing, fingers brushing, Maglor kissing and licking and nibbling him from his neck down to his thighs, paying special attention to the nipples, peaking them even more. Sören took Dooku's cock out of his mouth to whisper, "Oh, _fuck_ ," stroking himself harder as he watched Maglor sucking the nipples hard, tugging them with his teeth, then rubbing his tongue in slow, lazy circles, before lashing hard and fast, heat in his eyes, making Dooku pant and cry out, trembling, a desperate look on his face.  
  
When Maglor's kisses finally reached their way to Dooku's thighs, he licked and sucked on Dooku's balls as Sören sucked Dooku's cock harder, faster. Just before Dooku could come in his mouth, Sören teasingly let the cock slip and licked it all over, licking slow and then fast, tracing the veins with his tongue, furiously lashing the slit, tongue feather-light on the sensitive frenulum. Sören was dangerously close to coming himself, so incredibly worked up from having watched Maglor worship his body, and now he was worshiping the beautiful cock as Maglor ate at the tightening balls... but even more than his lust for the sights and sounds, it was that feeling of love, of intimacy, of stopping the world to melt together, that was threatening to send Sören off untouched. They had lost one Fingolfin but they would not lose this one. Every kiss, every touch, felt like a protective spell, tethering him to them, where he belonged now and forevermore.  
  
Sören took Dooku's cock in his mouth again and showed mercy, sucking him to a loud, fierce climax. Sören cried out as his mouth was filled to overflowing with the sweet-salty-tart seed, and he grabbed Maglor and kissed him with it before he could swallow it down. As they kissed, Sören stroked Dooku's still-spurting cock, and it shot over their faces, Sören's cock jolting as he was rained on. Then his cock throbbed again as he and Maglor licked the cum from each other's faces and kissed once more, savoring the taste of him.  
  
They came up to take turns kissing Dooku, who lay there dazed with a little smile on his face. Then Maglor and Sören kissed each other, and as they got into it, cocks rubbing together as they kissed, Dooku recovered, hard again, and now it was his turn to grab them and take turns kissing both of them, demanding more.  
  
Sören was rolled back against the pillows and Dooku climbed atop him. Sören clung to him for dear life as Dooku claimed his mouth, and they both groaned as their hard cocks pressed together, moaned as cock rubbed cock, as they kissed and kissed, starving for each other. Laying at their side, Maglor kissed Sören's neck and shoulder, and Dooku's, and then he was kissing down the side of them, making them shiver, kissing each other and grinding together more insistently. Sören cried out as Maglor kissed, licked, and nibbled on a hip, and Dooku gave a growl as Maglor gave him the same treatment.  
  
Maglor got his head in to take both their cocks in his mouth, giving them a sultry look, letting them see the want on his face as he sucked them together. Sören and Dooku pet Maglor, played with his hair, and continued to roll their hips, cock grinding against cock in the silken heat of Maglor's mouth. When they got closer they pulled Maglor's hair, and Maglor sucked harder and faster, devouring them, moaning with his own desire for them, getting himself more and more worked up as he pleasured them together.  
  
When Sören and Dooku felt each other getting closer across their bond, they resumed kissing, moaning into each kiss. And just before they came together they looked into each other's eyes, gasped together. Across their Force bond they mutually spoke:  
  
 _Come with me._  
  
They cried out as they came together in Maglor's mouth. Never had coming together felt so rewarding, and never had Maglor been hungrier for their seed, drinking them and swallowing, licking them clean as they throbbed together in ecstasy. Sören and Dooku kissed deeply, and Sören heard himself whisper, "I love you so much, Nico. I love you so much. So much. I love you. I love you..." He felt so utterly consumed by his love for Dooku - the terrifying height and breadth and depth of it, that could destroy him and everything in his path if it were ever lost. He felt like a supernova burning too bright, his fire lit by Fingolfin's star-fire. And yet, there was no cooling down, no relief from this. He enveloped Dooku in that warmth and light now, wanting to show him beyond any shadow of a doubt what he meant to him, the lover of his soul.  
  
Then they turned that passion to Maglor, so needy in his raw grief. Sören and Dooku kissed his mouth, and then began to pleasure Maglor's body the way Sören and Maglor had pleasured Dooku together. Maglor's soft sighs and moans got louder, becoming broken cries as they went up for a second round, from thighs up to his chest, teasing the hard nipples with their tongues before sucking hard, nibbling, laving some more, taking turns kissing him - thumb and fingers playing with a nipple as they kissed - before their mouth was on the nipple again, pebbling Maglor's nipples as hard and swollen as they'd ever been, Sören moaning at how delicious they looked swollen and glistening.  
  
Maglor almost lost control as Dooku sucked him slowly and Sören's tongue rubbed inside of him. And again when Sören sucked his cock - this time harder and faster - and Dooku's tongue worked in him slowly. Sören loved watching him writhe, thrash, howl, sob, and when Maglor cried out, "Please, _please_ ," it was all Sören could do to not come, cock throbbing urgently.  
  
Before Maglor could climax, Sören and Dooku stopped their teasing and kissed each other. Then they rose up to kiss Maglor - Sören used the Force to grab the lubricant. He poured a generous amount over Maglor's cock, and then Maglor cried out as Dooku worked slick fingers into him, readying him, a knowing look in his eyes.  
  
Sören straddled Maglor's hips and Maglor guided his cock to Sören's opening. Sören sank down - gasping a little at the tight fit, after close to a week without sex - and he and Maglor both cried out when Maglor was all the way in. Maglor's hands slid up and down Sören's body as he began to ride, slowly. "So beautiful," Maglor whispered.  
  
Then Dooku positioned himself behind Sören. Sören gave Maglor a wicked grin as he felt the movement behind him. Maglor cried out again as Dooku pushed into him, and now Dooku's arms wrapped around Sören from behind, kissing and licking his neck and shoulder as Dooku started to thrust into Maglor, matching the same slow, sensual rhythm of Sören's ride.  
  
It didn't stay slow for long, the fire rising in them, needing each other, needing to burn together, feel alive together. Sören bounced away on Maglor's cock, whimpering and sobbing, with Dooku's groans a counterpoint, rocking into Maglor harder and faster. Dooku's hands were more insistent on Sören's flesh, exploring, and when Dooku reached to seize Sören's cock, stroking it in time with their fuck, his free hand tilted Sören's face so they could kiss, and Maglor moaned at the sight of them kissing. Sören rode harder and Dooku thrusted faster, and Maglor's cries of "yes, _yes_ " urged them on.  
  
Sören never wanted to stop, losing himself in the sweet rubbing of Maglor's cock inside him, Dooku's hand gripping his aching cock and stroking it just right, Maglor's hands and Dooku's other hand brushing all over his sensitized flesh. But it was too good, and when Sören gave a little whining howl and a cry of, "oh shit oh god oh _fuck_ I can't hold back," Maglor breathed "yes Ada, come," and Sören gave in to one of the hardest orgasms of his life, throwing back his head and screaming before Dooku tilted his face to claim his mouth again, drinking his cry just before Maglor's body shook and Sören felt Maglor shoot into him, and a few seconds later Dooku trembled against him, groaning as he had his own climax.  
  
They took each other's hands, and squeezed. _I love you_ rang out across their bond, three threads of light braiding together until they were as one, and Sören heard Maglor sobbing, felt him quivering again, breathing harder.  
  
Sören leaned down and kissed Maglor, and after their tongues did one last slow, sweet dance, Sören kissed his tears. "You all right?" Sören asked, stroking Maglor's face.  
  
Maglor nodded, and smiled through his tears. He took Sören's hand and put it to his heart. "The Song," he said. "I can feel the Song again..." He broke, sobbing harder.  
  
Now Dooku was kissing him as well, kissing both of them. And as powerful as their orgasm had been, the kisses made them crave more. As Dooku and Maglor kissed, Sören kissed his way down and ate Dooku's seed out of Maglor, smiling and laughing against him as he heard Maglor moan, felt Maglor quiver, felt the desperate hands grabbing his curls, Sören's tongue fucking him like he was trying to bring Maglor back to life.  
  
When Maglor was ready, he lay between Sören and Dooku, facing Dooku, a leg hooked around Dooku's waist, Sören holding Maglor tight from behind. Sören groaned as he watched Dooku and Maglor kiss, and Dooku pushed into him again. After a few thrusts Sören pushed in as well, and Maglor gasped and shuddered at the feel of being stretched and filled by both of them, Sören and Dooku moaning and shivering at the feel of their hard cocks rubbing together inside Maglor's channel.  
  
"We've got you, _elskan,_ " Sören husked, brushing aside Maglor's hair to kiss his neck, his nape, his shoulder, his upper back. "We love you." He tilted Maglor's face to kiss him. "We won't let you drown."  
  
They made love that way for a long time, a sensual, dreamlike haze that Sören wanted to stay lost in as long as possible, savoring the feel of cock rubbing cock, Maglor's insides kissing their cocks, welcoming them home again and again. And when they sped up, frantic, frenzied, it was like a force of nature, unstoppable, nothing else in the world mattering but their need, their hunger, their passion. Maglor came with a hoarse shout, and Dooku and Sören came together again, cock creaming cock, Sören's orgasm that much better for feeling the heat of Dooku's seed spurt over his cock.  
  
They tangled up together and dozed off, and when they woke they needed more. Sören was held between them now, Maglor laying on his back, Sören's back against Maglor's chest, riding, Dooku watching Maglor's cock going in and out of him, the way Sören's head turned and they kissed, Maglor's hands sliding over Sören's flesh, until Sören made a "come here" gesture. On his knees, Dooku wrapped Sören's legs around his waist, and stuffed Sören full, Sören crying out at the two cocks inside him, almost coming right then from the thought of Dooku's cock rubbing Maglor's inside him.  
  
They fucked hard and furious now, Sören begging "more, more" as they pounded into him, giving Sören all he could take, Sören feeling as sex-crazed as he'd ever felt in his life, wanting so desperately, needing once again to burn, to feel alive, to be in a better place for awhile and take his beloveds there with him, someplace safe and wild all at once. And when Dooku and Maglor's thrusts and caresses sent Sören over the edge, it was glorious. Sören felt like the phoenix inked on his skin, burning up as he had once died, but burning into life, feeling something other than the cold and the dark. Maglor and Dooku coming into him was the balm his soul needed, and he lay there with tears streaming down his face, whispering "thank you... thank you."  
  
Maglor took Sören's hand then, squeezed it, and Sören could faintly hear music - a choir, harp, bells, an ethereal melody that sent gooseflesh coursing over him.  
  
 _We're going to be OK, Ada. We're going to be all right._  
  
And yet, as Sören dozed off again, he couldn't help thinking that they weren't quite out of the woods yet... that they had taken this leap forward but were about to get shoved a few steps back.  
  
For now, though, he held onto what he had, the flame lit in the dark.


	16. Dust In the Wind

**Dust In the Wind**

  
  
  
After their lengthy and passionate threesome romp on Thursday night, Sören slept in on the morning of Friday, October sixteenth, waking up just before noon. Despite sleeping in, he still felt exhausted, and he was also sticky and deliciously sore, his body well-used. He woke up alone, and gingerly made his way out to the kitchen for coffee, the house quiet apart from Pumpkin playing with a jingle ball on the hall floor and Snúdur crunching food in the kitchen while Rasputin sat on top of the cat tree looking out the living room window. There was no sign of Huan, confirmed by a note from Maglor saying he'd taken Huan out for a walk, with a note below it from Dooku saying he'd gone to the gym.  
  
When Sören sat down to coffee, he checked his phone and saw that he'd missed a call from Ari. Sören decided he'd wait and have a shower first, then call Ari back, and that was what he did.  
  
"Sorry I missed your call," Ari said.  
  
"It's all right. I guess Harrison really did have plans for you, huh?"  
  
Ari chuckled. "Yes. Actually, he took me on a ferry to Skye, which was nice."  
  
"So you didn't spend the entire day shagging?"  
  
"No, just the entire night."  
  
Sören facepalmed, and then he blew a raspberry into the phone. "You still on Skye?"  
  
"We're staying here through the weekend. I got the help to pull extra weight at the bed-and-breakfast while I'm gone, which they didn't mind since it was my birthday."  
  
"I'm really, really, really sorry, again, about almost forgetting it was your birthday, and not sending anything out -"  
  
"Sören, I told you it was OK. I don't need anything. The thing I really wanted this year was to go on a holiday, and Harrison took care of that."  
  
"I still feel bad, but... God. It's been... a month." Sören gave a deep, sad sigh.  
  
"I know. I heard." Across their bond, Ari spoke into Sören's mind: _I felt._  
  
 _I'm sorry for that, too. I don't mean to stress you out._ "I had to close down the studio for the rest of the month."  
  
 _Stop beating yourself up. You didn't ask for any of this to happen._ "Oh god, Sören." Ari made a little clucking noise, like a concerned mother hen. "It _must_ be bad, if you've closed down your studio. That was your dream -"  
  
"It's not closed down permanently, forever, just till the end of the month." But as those words came out of Sören's mouth, they felt like a lie. Sören didn't want the closure to be final, but he couldn't shake the feeling that the studio wasn't going to be re-opening come the beginning of November... that despite the relief from the angst last night, there was another shoe about to drop.  
  
"...OK." From the tone of Ari's voice, Sören knew he had his own doubts about whether or not it would re-open. "Well, if you guys need a break out there, our door is always open. You can come stay at the manse in St. Andrews for as long as you want or need to. You know that. You won't be any burden on us, and Harrison would love to see you."  
  
"I know. I appreciate the offer." Sören looked at the clock and rubbed his beard. "I should let you go, since you have a limited time to see and do things on Skye and I don't want to keep you."  
  
"All right. Take care of yourself, and those two idiots you live with, and I mean it, if you need anything you let us know, if you need to come, you just come, day or night."  
  
"OK. Love you."  
  
"Love you too."  
  
When Sören got off the phone he realized he had an appetite for the first time in a week. He hadn't eaten last night, apart from devouring Dooku and Maglor in bed, and now his stomach growled. There were leftovers from Wednesday night's chicken dinner in the fridge but Sören felt like he ought to save those for later. He made himself peanut butter toast and had another cup of coffee, and had to fend off the cats, who wanted to have whatever he was having.  
  
After he ate he did dishes, putting on music to give himself a little boost of energy, going for his R&B and hip-hop playlist for something upbeat and reasonably angst-free. It was enough of a boost that he did some minor housekeeping afterwards, changing the catbox, making the bed, putting in a small load of laundry.  
  
And then a slower song came on the playlist - "Sooner or Later" by N.E.R.D., Pharrell's band. Sören thought about hitting the skip button for something else, but it seemed like the ideal song for a catharsis with the lingering angst. So he sat down and listened, with Snúdur on his lap, and towards the end, the tears came.  
  
 _Time waits for no one, and it cost for a loss (Damn)  
A cosmic joke, should you laugh or cry?  
  
Sooner or later, it all comes crashing down (crashing down)  
Crashing down (crashing down)  
When everyone's around, I bet  
You would've paid up, all your cash down (your cash down)  
To not make a sound (to make a sound)  
But everyone knows now  
  
It all comes crashing  
(Down) It's over, leave it  
(Down) It's over, leave it  
(Down) It's over, leave it_  
  
As the guitar wailed, Sören did too, head in his hands. Maglor walked in to that, and he came right over to Sören and pulled him close, rocked him in time with the storming end of the song, the guitar weeping as the drums crashed like things falling apart. Maglor cried too, and when the song was over they continued to cry.  
  
Then another Pharrell song came on - "Happy" - the same song that had been playing in the jeep as the Dagorath hit. Like a slap in the face.  
  
"Oh, fuck you," Sören said, clicking the off button on the remote for the stereo.  
  
Maglor sat next to him on the couch, and Huan climbed up, licking the tears from Maglor's face then Sören's. Then Huan attempted to lick Snúdur's face, with Snúdur giving him a filthy look that made Sören and Maglor laugh through their tears, laughing and crying.  
  
Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. Sören and Maglor looked at each other, and then at the door as the knock got louder, more insistent. Sören got up before Maglor did - he picked Snúdur up off his lap and handed the cat to Maglor, who held the cat and pet him, with Snúdur kneading on Maglor's arm, purring away like he owned him. Sören strode over to the door and opened it a crack. When he saw Edenel on the other side he flung the door open all the way, grabbed Edenel and pulled him inside, hugging him as tight as he could, and started to cry all over again.  
  
"Uncle," Sören wept, and then, "Father."  
  
Edenel's arms tightened around Sören. Maglor put the cat down on the floor and walked over to join them, holding both of them, crying with them.  
  
"You're alive," Sören choked out. "Oh god, I'm so glad you're alive... I'm so glad you're alive..."  
  
Sören and Edenel sat on the couch while Maglor made coffee. Sören and Edenel continued to hold each other - not saying anything, just clinging to each other fiercely, shaking with silent tears. Sören was relieved to see Edenel again, and yet he couldn't shake the feeling that something was horribly _wrong_ , that Edenel was even more Not Okay than the three of them had been over the last seven days.  
  
When Maglor came out with a tray of coffee for them, he took the space on the couch on the other side of Edenel, arms around him again. "It's good to see you," Maglor said, and then he tilted Edenel's face to his and kissed him. Sören's breath hitched at the sight of them kissing, deep and sensual. But this was no prelude to sex - when they pulled apart, breathing harder, Edenel looked down, and the grief on his face broke Sören's heart.  
  
Sören rubbed his nose in the flood of white hair, kissed Edenel's cheek. Edenel patted him, trying to smile and failing. Finally Edenel spoke, his voice breaking a little as he asked, "Where's Fin -" He couldn't finish the sentence.  
  
That was as good as a final confirmation of the ascended Fingolfin's death. Sören's heart sank. He opened his mouth and no words came out. Maglor swallowed hard - Sören could tell he was feeling it too - and Maglor said, "Nicolae's at the gym. He should be home shortly."  
  
"All right." Edenel gave a small nod. "What I have to report can... wait... until he's returned."  
  
"Do you want anything to eat?" Sören asked, wanting to be a proper host, but also genuinely concerned that, like them, Edenel hadn't eaten much since the Dagorath, if at all.  
  
"Not now, dear." Edenel gave him a little kiss and patted him again.  
  
"Is there... is there anything we can do?" Sören asked. "I know what you just came back from, it's... it's a lot, and..."  
  
"I just need to be close to both of you right now," Edenel said, "and... Fingolfin..." He closed his eyes and shuddered, jaw trembling as he finally spoke the name. "When he returns."  
  
"OK. We can do that." And with that, Sören pulled Edenel against his chest, and Maglor rubbed Edenel's back, the two of them petting his hair. They rocked together, and Huan lay across the three of them with a pitful whine, seeming to know the horror Edenel was feeling right now.  
  
Dooku came back from the gym approximately fifteen minutes later. He stopped in the doorway and stared for a moment, noticing Edenel had come back. "Oh," he said. Then he looked down at himself, in sweaty gym clothes. "I... I should change first. I'm filthy -"  
  
"Get over here," Sören said, gesturing. "Father needs us."  
  
With a hesitant little sigh - if they weren't all feeling so much hurt right now, Sören would have been amused at Dooku being ever the polite gentleman, not wanting to offend - Dooku came over, got on his knees, and put his arms around Edenel as well. It was then that Edenel broke, finally weeping aloud, and the sight and sound of the hardened, fearsome _Ithiledhil_ warrior losing that iron control and giving into such raw, primal grief made Sören weep too.  
  
Dooku reached up to stroke Edenel's cheek, his chin, with love and sorrow in his dark eyes that made Sören cry even harder. "Father," he said. "I am relieved you... made it, and came back to us. But clearly, you have endured a great deal. May I inquire of the others?"  
  
Edenel nodded. "I waited for you to get back before..." He gave a shuddery sigh and closed his eyes again. He took the hand of Dooku's that was stroking his face and kissed it, before gesturing to the armchair. "You had better be sitting down for this."  
  
"May I shower and get changed first?" Dooku grimaced at his gym clothes. "I hate to delay the news, but -"  
  
Edenel nodded again. "I'm not going anywhere."  
  
Dooku got up and walked down the hall. Any other time Sören would be tempted to follow him down and join him in the shower - or perhaps clean the sweat with his tongue and get him sweaty all over again before the shower - but now he and Maglor just continued to hold Edenel, taking time to sip the coffee Maglor made. Sören put Edenel's cup of coffee in his hands and encouraged him to drink. "Sometimes having something warm helps with shock," Sören said, rubbing Edenel's shoulder.  
  
And he knew as soon as that was out of his mouth that if Edenel was in a state of shock - the hunter, the killer - then it was bad. Sören braced himself.  
  
Dooku came back in a dark steel-blue sweater and black trousers. He sat on the armchair and Rasputin jumped in his lap. He idly stroked the cat, who purred and kneaded. Snúdur and Pumpkin came out as if to say "what about us?" Snúdur sat on Sören's lap and Pumpkin came over to sniff Edenel and climb on him, demanding pettings, which Edenel gave with a fond little smile before the sadness returned.  
  
There was a long silence, where Sören could tell Edenel was trying to gather his thoughts. And finally Edenel took a deep breath and gave a nod. "All right," he said. "I will start by telling you who survived."  
  
That implied the list was short, far shorter than the list of who died. Sören felt like he was about to be sick.  
  
"Myself, obviously," Edenel said. "Kol -"  
  
"Where is Kol?" Sören frowned. "Sorry to interrupt, it's just -"  
  
"No, I understand. You care for him, and he cares for you." Edenel patted Sören. "He is coming... eventually. He needs to take some time before he returns. I can't say more than that."  
  
"I'll at least have something to report to my sister," Sören said, and breathed a small sigh of relief at that. That was one less casualty to mourn.  
  
Edenel went on. "Myself. Kol. Vanimórë -"  
  
"Oh thank fuck," Sören said under his breath. He closed his eyes and tears fell. He missed Van terribly, but knowing he had survived - well, that was a little bit of comfort.  
  
"Celebrimbor."  
  
Sören thought about asking after Fëanor's grandson, and inquiring if he might meet him sometime, but he got the sense now was not the time to ask that. He got the sense there was something more where Celebrimbor was concerned, but it wasn't the time to go poking at that feeling, either.  
  
"Most of the _Ithiledhil_. And Sauron."  
  
"Oh no." Maglor narrowed his eyes. "Sauron survived?"  
  
Edenel nodded solemnly.  
  
"But Morgoth did not," Dooku said.  
  
"No, Morgoth did not." Edenel pursed his lips. "A lot of people did not - that ends the list of survivors."  
  
"I knew I died," Dooku said. "I felt it. But you mean..." His voice lowered to a near-whisper. "Fëanor is dead? And that world's Maglor?"  
  
"Yes," Edenel said, wincing.  
  
"And..." Sören exhaled sharply. "Gil-Galad? Tindómion? Finarfin?"  
  
"All dead."  
  
Sören thought of his visit to the Timeless Halls, the way he'd touched them, and been touched by them - Gil-Galad, Tindómion, Fëanor and Maglor, Finarfin, Fingolfin. How, even though he'd just met most of them, he nonetheless _knew_ them from his own life as Fëanor, and even though they weren't the ones he shared history with and in some cases the history of their world and his own was very different, they were still themselves and he belonged to them and they belonged to him. And now they were gone. He had _loved_ them, and now he had lost them. The news that they had all fallen in the Dagorath would have been hard enough to take on its own. It was that much worse having seen them in their glory, having writhed together in the throes of passion, having come together in the sacred space of orgasm, when they were their truest selves, all fire.  
  
"Oh god." An inhuman noise came out of Sören. "Oh _god_..."  
  
Dooku stared in shock and disbelief, and then he shuddered and tears spilled down his cheeks. He put Rasputin down on the floor, and Pumpkin jumped off Edenel's lap just in time for Dooku to drop in front of them again and pull Edenel close to him, hold him tight. "I cannot begin to imagine what you are dealing with right now." He rocked Edenel, and then he pulled back to look in Edenel's eyes - so haunted that it made Sören shiver - and Dooku was continuing to cry, silently. "I felt myself die and it was... it was bloody awful. But you saw all those deaths -"  
  
"I saw an entire universe destroyed," Edenel said, trembling. "It was beyond terrible."  
  
"I did this, didn't I?" Sören's voice broke, remembering the white flash in the jeep. "I could feel Fëanor losing it when he watched Fingolfin die... I could feel him burning. And burning, and burning. And then it was like a bomb going off... a star exploding..." Sören wept, feeling like he was being ripped apart, reliving it all over again. Now with the added pain of knowing Edenel had seen it... that Edenel had lived through its destruction and terror. What Edenel had gone through... "Oh god. Edenel, I'm so sorry. I'm -"  
  
"Sören. Fëanor. Do not blame yourself for what happened elsewhere," Edenel said.  
  
"But that version of me still destroyed -"  
  
Edenel turned to face Sören and glared. "If anyone holds blame for what happened, it is Morgoth himself."  
  
"He's right," Maglor said.  
  
Sören doubled over, feeling like all the air was being sucked out of him, like he was being crushed. He dry heaved, ready to vomit in painful spasms, but it wouldn't come. He sobbed, and Maglor and Dooku sobbed with him, while Edenel shed a few last quiet tears and now the cold mask of the _Ithiledhil_ returned - or at the very least, numb shock.  
  
Finally Edenel put his hands on Sören's shoulders. "I mean what I say, Sören. I will not allow you to blame yourself for this."  
  
"And what's done has been done," Dooku said. "That universe is gone. Meanwhile, Edenel is here with us." He stroked Edenel's face again, pet his hair. "You came back to us because you need your family - some version of it that you are familiar with."  
  
Edenel nodded.  
  
"What do you need from us now?" Dooku asked.  
  
"To be near you," Edenel said.  
  
"You can stay with us as long as you want," Sören said, and Dooku and Maglor nodded. "As long as you need to. We have space."  
  
"Thank you."  
  
Sören kissed Edenel's brow, and then his lips slid down Edenel's nose, and their lips brushed, lingering. Sören felt a thrust in his loins, the impulse to comfort by giving pleasure, when he could feel the internal screams, the unvoiced cries, the sharp sting beyond the numb shock, the burning embers beyond the frozen wasteland. But that would have to be Edenel's call to make. "What do you need from us now?" Sören asked.  
  
"To be held, for awhile. And then I might sleep." Edenel's voice sounded ancient then. "I am so tired. So weary."  
  
That more than anything else hit Sören like a punch in the gut. He could feel it too - seemingly endless sleeplessness, hypervigilance immediately following the great war... and now that Edenel was safely under their roof, and he was very sure it was over, the exhaustion caught up with him. Edenel was so strong, such a fierce warrior - to Sören, he was a hero - and to see him so _vulnerable_ , feeling the way he ached into his bones, into his soul... Sören ached for him.  
  
Sören, Maglor and Dooku continued to hold Edenel, and the exhaustion overtook Edenel sooner rather than later. The three led him to bed and tucked him in. Sören followed Dooku and Maglor back into the living room. He tried to watch TV - still not in a place mentally to do much else - but he was feeling enough empathic blowback from Edenel that he needed to nap too, so he climbed into bed and spooned Edenel, arms tight around him.  
  
They were still spooning when Dooku woke them up for dinner. He'd used the leftover chicken and vegetables from Wednesday night to make homemade chicken soup, which was a very loving, nurturing gesture that was not lost on Sören. Edenel ate with them - he admitted it was the first time he'd eaten since everything happened.  
  
Sören and Maglor went to walk Huan after dinner, in silence. Maglor looked as sad as Sören felt. Sören would have cried again if he weren't all cried out, for now. Rain fell on the way home, as if the world was crying for them.  
  
Edenel slept in their bed that night, but there was no lovemaking, only the four huddling for warmth and comfort... what little comfort that could be taken in the face of such desolation.


	17. Embers

**Embers**

  
  
  
The day after Edenel returned, it began to snow in Akureyri. That wasn't unusual for October, but Sören nonetheless thought it was interesting that the snow coincided with the arrival of one who seemed like he was winter incarnate, and at a time when he was feeling as cold and numb as he'd ever been.  
  
Sören was worried about Edenel, who was even quieter than usual, and more than that, seemed to hold something back even as he wanted to be near this world's version of the family he'd lost in such a catastrophic, traumatic way. Sören still wasn't really fully functional himself - Maglor and Dooku weren't either - so he wasn't in a position to try to play therapist, he could only just be there to hold, to spend time with. The days passed in a haze of grief; Sören was at a loss as far as what to do with himself after the closure of the studio. He still didn't feel like making art - a part of Sören was wondering if he ever would draw or paint again, this dry spell felt even worse than the one he was in after Maglor left, years ago - and he didn't have enough mental bandwidth to read a book or do something else as involved. As pathetic as Sören felt passing the time watching TV or movies, and playing Stardew Valley, having become a living blanket heap, it was all he could do for awhile, was cuddle with Maglor and Edenel on the couch zoning out, while Dooku attempted to write in the armchair. Dooku, at least, still seemed to have his own creative muse hanging around, and Dooku was also keeping up his habits like going to the gym. But he wasn't necessarily doing better - more than once, Sören heard him in the bathroom crying, or watched him shed silent tears when Maglor and Edenel had fallen asleep and he himself was dozing and got stirred awake by Huan or one of the cats.  
  
Though Edenel slept in their bed most nights, he refrained from physical affection other than hugs, cuddling, and kissing. Sören, Maglor and Dooku had resumed making love, whether the three of them together or in different pairs, but Edenel did not join in, excusing himself to another room or out of the house altogether. This, more than anything else, attested to the depth of Edenel's grief and horror at what had happened - that one who could be so passionate, match their appetite for pleasure, was now keeping his distance.  
  
October wound down, coming close to the end of the month, and on the morning of Thursday, October thirtieth, Sören remembered in a sudden panic that he had plants at the art studio, and he hadn't set foot in the studio since the beginning of the month when Maglor had made him come home early from classes.  
  
"Oh god." Sören sobbed on Maglor's shoulder, flooded with guilt that he'd forgotten all about the plants in his fog of depression. "Oh god, those poor plants, they're probably dead -"  
  
"They're not," Maglor said. "I've gone to the studio a few times this month to take care of the plants."  
  
Sören shuddered, not wanting to think of what would have happened if Maglor hadn't checked on them. Then Sören hugged him tight. "Thank you. _Thank you_..."  
  
"But, if it would make you feel better, I can take you to the studio and we can take the plants home."  
  
Sören looked at Edenel. "Do you want to come with us?"  
  
Edenel nodded. "All right."  
  
Edenel got in the passenger's seat and Sören climbed in the back. It was snowing lightly, and Sören watched the snow as they rode out to Logifugl Listaskóli.  
  
Sören knew as soon as Maglor made the suggestion to go to the studio and get the plants that setting foot in the studio after all this time was likely going to be emotional for him. But it was one thing to be aware of that and another thing to be hit by those emotions as they pulled up in front of the office building that Sören had bought and turned into the art studio in spring of 2018. Sören's throat tightened and his eyes welled up just looking at the outside, and every step felt like he was made of lead as he walked towards the entrance.  
  
The inside of the building was so _cold_ \- not just that it had been sitting with the lights off and no heat running for the better part of a month, but there had been a certain sort of energy flowing through the place that was all but gone now. Sören took deep breaths, the tears coming slowly, as Maglor turned on the lights and he and Sören started down the hall. Edenel lingered in the hallway, noticing the framed art on the walls. "Is this your work, Sören?"  
  
"Mostly. I have some pieces gifted by my students, hanging up with notes attached, but most of it is mine."  
  
Just even that hurt, as Edenel studied each painting with interest - Sören was still in a dry spell with art, which was one of the hardest things about the mental space he was in. He was always at least somewhat depressed, that was just a way of life for him as long as he could remember, and there were times when that fire inside him that resisted the darkness had shrunk considerably, the depression deeper than usual, and he'd still been able to make things - having that outlet had helped him fight his way back from the edge. This felt like the dry spell he was in after Maglor left except worse. Sören didn't know if inspiration would return. Seeing his art was like adding insult to injury.  
  
The plants were indeed OK, as Maglor had promised, though it was still for the best that they would come home and be cared for more regularly. Sören and Maglor loaded up two of the carts that normally housed art supplies, and they made a couple trips to the jeep, with Edenel carrying plants out in his arms. When the plants were all in the jeep, Sören came back in and took a look around to see if there was anything else that needed to be taken care of. He went to the mini-fridge in his office and took out the bottled water and cans of soda he kept in there. "Might as well bring these home and not let them go to waste," he said, and Maglor nodded and carried them out to the jeep.  
  
When Maglor came back, Edenel was looking at the art again, and Sören was feeling the tears about to come on once more - he'd been distracted enough with getting the plants out to the jeep, but now that was over and he was here with the raw emotion of being inside the longtime dream he'd fulfilled and realizing that even after having taken most of the month off he still wasn't going to be ready to re-open the studio the first week of November... and he didn't know when he was going to be able to do it.  
  
Maglor noticed Sören's distress. "Sören." He put an arm around him. "What is it, _meu querido_?"  
  
Sören gave a shuddery sigh. "I can't open this back up next week. I..." He closed his eyes, and the tears began to fall. "I may have to shut this place down. I can't..." And he broke, sobbing.  
  
Maglor pulled him close and now Edenel came over and hugged him too.  
  
Maglor pressed a kiss to Sören's brow. "May I make a suggestion?"  
  
Sören exhaled sharply, and nodded.  
  
Maglor pulled back a little, put his hands on Sören's shoulders, and met his eyes. "This is your studio, so it's your judgement call to make about whether or not you keep it going. But perhaps you might consider an option that's halfway between opening next week and closing forever - like closing for the rest of the year, so you take some more time off to deal with... all of this... but you're giving yourself room to re-evaluate whether or not you want to open in a few months."  
  
Edenel spoke. "I think that's a sensible suggestion." His arms tightened around Sören and he kissed Sören's cheek. "It would be a shame for you to walk away from something that you loved doing, for good."  
  
"OK." Sören swallowed hard. He couldn't fault the logic of that suggestion, though he questioned how recovered he'd be at the end of December, when it came time to make the decision to re-open in January.  
  
"In the meantime..." Edenel let go of Sören and came around, looking at the paintings again. "Do you think you could take these home, so I can continue to admire them?"  
  
"We've got room in the jeep for it," Maglor said.  
  
They took Sören's paintings down from the walls, and made a few more trips to the jeep. And finally, when the walls were mostly bare, Sören turned off the lights and locked the door. He lingered at the door for a moment, taking a long look at the outside of the studio, watching the snow fall - feeling his heart sink, his body go leaden once more, the sense that though he was offically only closing for the rest of the year and was going to allow for the possibility of re-opening the studio in January 2021, in reality this was the last time he'd visit the studio and it was done. He tried to smack away that thought as soon as it came, not wanting to be so negative, but the feeling haunted him on the ride back home.  
  
When they got in, Dooku helped them take the plants and the paintings inside. He had a knowing look in his eyes when he saw the paintings had come home with the plants.  
  
"Uncle wanted me to take the paintings home so he can look at them because... I'm shutting the studio down for the rest of the year," Sören explained, "and I'll decide in December if I re-open in January or not."  
  
Dooku nodded. "I see."  
  
Sören thought he rather did - that somehow, Dooku also seemed to know that "if" was, at present, leaning heavily towards Sören saying no to re-opening.  
  
 _Or something else happening and getting in the way._  
  
That thought sent a chill down Sören's spine, made his hair stand on end. There was a prickle at the back of his neck, a feeling of foreboding - that the Dagorath had impacted this world deeply enough that the aftershocks weren't done yet. Something else was on its way, it was a question of what.  
  
 _Fuck you, brain._ Sören was not in the mood for speculation, worry and paranoia. He had enough angst as it was.  
  
The plants were arranged throughout the house - and indeed it was a nice touch, making the cozy little house look even homier, even more warm and welcoming. It was a touch of comfort, as if to say _life lives here_ , a middle finger in the general direction of the death that had come for them in another world. Sören couldn't help smiling a little after he watered them and talked baby talk to them, brushing the rim of each pot with the Living Force tingling in his fingertips, giving them a little touch of loving energy and watching the air shimmer around them for a second. He thought of that garden he'd seen in Blackheath that was well-loved, where he could feel the same sort of energy thrumming there, the unmistakable touch of a Force sensitive. He wondered about that briefly before Dooku put a hand on his shoulder.  
  
"Macalaurë and I are going to the store," Dooku said. "Do you have any preferences for dinner this evening?"  
  
"Lamb?" Sören shrugged. "Maybe your lamb stew? That's nice on a day like today."  
  
"All right. I'll see what I can do." Dooku gave Sören a little kiss and tousled his curls. "Try to stay out of trouble while we're gone." He swatted Sören's ass.  
  
That was easy enough to do - now Sören had to make the announcement to his students that the studio wouldn't be opening up again next week. As Sören worked on his laptop to prepare the message for the website and the e-mail, wanting to choose his words carefully - neither wanting to sound alarmist nor give false hope - Edenel sat next to him, an arm around him, and Sören leaned on him to take comfort during the difficult task. Edenel rubbed his nose in Sören's curls and kissed the top of his head.  
  
When the message was sent out, Sören used the Force to put his laptop down on the coffee table and Edenel pulled him close, arms tight around him, rocking him.  
  
"I know that was very difficult," Edenel said.  
  
Sören nodded. He looked up, and into the almost-white eyes. "That studio was my dream. And now it's gone. I mean... yes, it's not closed forever... yet... but right now everything feels like hopeless bullshit. I feel like such a failure -  
  
Edenel cupped Sören's chin in his hand and gave him a stern look. " _Sören._ You are _not_ a failure. You are having a perfectly understandable response to a traumatic event."  
  
"I mean, I wasn't even there, really, but I felt it." Sören closed his eyes and shuddered. "It was horrible." He opened his eyes and touched Edenel's face - Edenel's skin ice-cold, Edenel gasping at the warmth of Sören's hand. "It must have been so much more for you, because you were there. And..." Sören's jaw quivered, tears burning and stinging his eyes. "I... Fëanor... destroyed an entire fucking universe. I failed med school... I failed this... and even somewhere where I wasn't a human, where I was a god, _I failed._ I couldn't protect Fingolfin, couldn't protect the rest of my family, I just failed existence itself -"  
  
" _Listen to me._ " Edenel's voice was as sharp as his knives. "The force of Fëanor's rage for his loss of Fingolfin may have ripped Morgoth apart - which was too powerful for much of anything to withstand - but Morgoth himself pulled that trigger with what he did. _I do not blame Fëanor._ My anger lies with Morgoth... Sauron... Eru himself."  
  
Sören looked down with a sigh. He could sense no deceit in Edenel's words - just the opposite. He could feel the glacial fury - mirrored in the same white-ice burning of Fingolfin facing Morgoth so long ago - so cold it was _hot_. Sören shivered.  
  
Then Edenel's lips brushed Sören's. His skin was warm to the touch again. "Sören. You are not a failure." Edenel pulled Sören against his chest again.  
  
"I shouldn't have said that about Fëanor, at least. I just." Sören sighed again. He looked back up at Edenel, and found words for the awful truth, the center of his grief, like a black hole threatening to devour everything after the supernova of Fëanor's rage-madness. "There was a universe where Fëanor ascended and became a god. Where Fingolfin ascended and became a god. Maglor. Finarfin. Finrod. All of us, my entire family. I went to the Timeless Halls, days before the Dagorath - I met Gil-Galad, Tindómion, Finarfin. They were all so _magnificent_. And now they're gone. Gods. Powerful. Mighty. _Gone._ If they're all gone - if they couldn't survive the Dagorath... what does that say for us, here? For the rest of the Fëanors and Sörens and Fingolfins and Dookus and Maglors across the multiverse? That doesn't bode well at all. From where I sit it seems like, even after we threw down the Valar in the world you came from, they still got their last laugh in the end. We were still doomed. We are _damned_ , Edenel. We are -"  
  
Edenel held a finger to Sören's lips. Sören could feel the anger building in him, like a winter storm. "Enough," Edenel said. " _Enough._ "  
  
"I'm sorry." Sören's jaw trembled again, tears sliding down his face, wishing he hadn't said that aloud, not wanting to cause Edenel more pain...  
  
But the thing was done, and now Edenel winced. Sören wanted to crawl into a hole somewhere and hide and die. "I'm sorry," Sören babbled. "I'm sorry. I'm sor -"  
  
Edenel kissed him hard, and deep. When they pulled apart, breathing hard, Edenel took Sören's face in his hands. For the first time, Sören caught a whiff of a familiar scent that he knew by now wasn't cologne. It was faint - not as strong as it would be, not yet - but it was there.  
  
"Sören. I am not angry with _you._ You have valid concerns, considering the horror your family has been through. It's very understandable." Edenel stroked Sören's face. "All I can say is... Coldagnir and I are going to try our hardest to make sure what we just saw, does not happen here in this universe. Of all the worlds we have visited so far - which is certainly not all of them - you and your family here have the best shot of ascending. And when you do, you may well be able to help the others, somehow. There is still hope, and I say this even as I am still reeling from... what happened. I would not have come here, back to you, to take comfort with what remains of my family, if I thought there was nothing left. I would have gone off. Away. By myself." Edenel looked out the window, and Sören knew he wasn't looking at anything outside.  
  
"That's what happened with Van, isn't it."  
  
"Probably."  
  
Sören cocked his head to one side. "You said... a name I didn't recognize. Coldagnir?"  
  
Edenel turned back to him. He took a deep breath. "Yes. That is Kol's name."  
  
"...Interesting." Sören pursed his lips. He'd figured out Kol wasn't human, but it had never really come out just _what_ he was, and now Sören's curiosity almost distracted him from the distress.  
  
Almost.  
  
"He can better explain when he returns. As I said, he is taking care of something before he comes."  
  
"All right." Sören nodded. "I hope to see him soon." Sören frowned then. "I miss Van."  
  
"I know." Edenel kissed Sören's brow. "I wish _he_ knew."  
  
Sören felt bad all over again, thinking about Vanimórë isolating himself somewhere. Wondering if he'd ever see Vanimórë again. The thought that Vanimórë was alive, but didn't want to see him, seemed to Sören an even worse outcome than Vanimórë being dead - much as the thought of Vanimórë being dead filled him with pain. Sören wept afresh, this time for Vanimórë, wishing there was some way to get through to him, something, _anything_ he could do to ease the torment...  
  
"Come, dear one." Edenel rose from the couch. He picked Sören up as if he were as light as a feather, and carried him down the hall. "A nap might make you feel better."  
  
It was like the day Edenel came back, but in reverse. Now Edenel was the one to tuck Sören into bed and climb in beside him, spooning him. Sören couldn't fall asleep at first, laying there in tears, and then Edenel pet him and Sören felt magic in his touch, soothing him until his mind slowed down and he slipped into the weave of dreams.  
  
  
_  
  
That night Edenel slept in the guest room instead of in bed with the three of them. Sören wondered about that, but didn't inquire, not wanting to be rude. It did concern him, though, wondering if the reason why Edenel hadn't had sex with any of them since he arrived was revulsion - after being among his own kind, the Elf-gods, for a time, and then losing them and coming back to something very different.  
  
That question was on Sören's mind again when he woke up the next day, Saturday the thirty-first, and he could smell that enchanting, delicious scent of Edenel's that wasn't cologne, all the way across the house. Sören found him in the kitchen - Maglor and Dooku had gone out.  
  
Sören finally let his curiosity and concern win out over the fear of not wanting to be rude or intrusive. "Uncle," he said, sitting down at the table across from Edenel. "You've been here two weeks. Why haven't you..."  
  
Edenel looked up from where he'd been glaring into his coffee. His eyebrows went up.  
  
Heat flooded Sören's face. "Uh, you know." He cleared his throat. "We haven't, ah..."  
  
"Yes." Edenel looked away and swallowed hard. "It was grief at first... being too much in a state of shock. Then it was waiting."  
  
"For Coldagnir?"  
  
"No." Edenel looked back at Sören - a look that could peel the paint off the walls. "The heat of the _Ithiledhil._ I have been... holding back. Reserving myself. Which isn't obligatory, but with the grief as intense as it is, the unleashing must be moreso, and the best way to do that was to conserve the energy... let it build up."  
  
"So you want to..."  
  
"Later," Edenel said, nodding. "I have a task for you, Sören."  
  
"You do?"  
  
"I'll tell you about it tonight, before..." Edenel looked away again.  
  
When Sören took their coffee cups and put them in the sink, he let out a sigh of relief - and the relief gave way to tears again. Edenel didn't go over right away, there was hesitancy, and then Edenel muttered, "Hells," and came over.  
  
"You... you're annoyed with me?" Sören choked out.  
  
"Oh Sören, no." Edenel gingerly put a hand on his shoulder. "I apologize. That reaction was..." He gave a little groan. "You are too tempting, and that needs to be later, not now."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"Why are you upset, dear one?"  
  
Sören frowned. "I'd thought you were repulsed by me after, you know. Seeing Fëanor. Like I'm some poor substitute -"  
  
Edenel silenced him by kissing him hard, and then he took Sören's hand and put it on the hard bulge in his trousers. Their eyes met - Edenel's near-white eyes were blazing - and the scent from him was almost overwhelming. Sören's own cock stirred, responding.  
  
"Do not say such things about yourself," Edenel rasped. He kissed Sören again. "You do not know how badly I want you."  
  
"Then why wait?" Sören crinkled his nose and bit his lower lip. "Why not take me here and now?" His cock twinged.  
  
Edenel took a few steps back and pinched the bridge of his nose. "It must be later. You will understand when it is time."  
  
Dooku and Maglor returned about twenty minutes later. Maglor tossed the keys to the jeep to Edenel, who said, "I'll be back," and bundled up for outside and stepped out as quickly as he could.  
  
Dooku and Maglor sat down then. "We had a little talk while you were sleeping," Dooku said.  
  
"Oh." Sören folded his arms. "This must be good."  
  
Dooku and Maglor looked at each other. "Tonight, we're going to a hotel to give you and Father some privacy," Dooku said, looking back at Sören. "He expressed desire to be alone with you, we shan't get in his way."  
  
" _Oh._ " Sören blinked slowly. "I hope that's all right -"  
  
Maglor nodded. "We get it, Sören. He needs something from you tonight, he said."  
  
"He'd told me that." Sören nodded. He was still surprised - it was one thing to know Edenel was feeling the heat come on, and had been conserving his sexual energy to unleash tonight, and to be told that there was some sort of task for him. It was another for Maglor and Dooku to clear out.  
  
"But first," Maglor said, "the Pagans call this Samhain. We're not, really, but it's a tide of death. Edenel asked if we could hold a small memorial ceremony this evening, before, ah, we go off to the hotel and leave you two alone."  
  
Sören braced himself.  
  
Edenel was gone all day. Dooku tidied the house, and Maglor read old journals that he'd kept over the years. Sören zoned out again, half-watching TV, feeling irritated with himself that this was his life right now, not really functional enough in the fog of his depression to do much else. Maglor eventually sensed Sören's frustration - or saw him scowling - and took him to walk Huan. They headed into downtown Akureyri, and the length of the walk and the snow coming down meant they got snowed on a bit; Sören thought Maglor looked regal with the snow shining in his hair and on his lashes like thousands of tiny diamonds. He grabbed Maglor and kissed him breathless.  
  
He badly wanted Maglor - he'd been feeling pent up since his kiss with Edenel that morning - but when they got back to the house and Sören tried to march Maglor off in the direction of the bedroom, Maglor laughed softly and said, "No, you need to save your appetite for later."  
  
They had come back in the sunset, and soon after, as sunset became dusk, Edenel returned. Dooku had made a savory pie with the leftover lamb and potatoes and vegetables that hadn't been used in last night's stew. it was another nice meal on a cold, snowy day, and between that and wine, Sören almost felt content.  
  
Almost. Every time he looked at Edenel, his spine tingled and his cock twinged. Sören kept getting urges to offer himself on the table.  
  
After dinner, Maglor went out to the yard to start a small bonfire in the snow. The snowfall itself had stopped; Dooku made hot chocolate and the four took it outside, then Maglor came back in and came out with his acoustic guitar, and four tealight candles in holders.  
  
Edenel quietly got up, and from the bonfire, he lit a match. He lit his candle first, then Maglor's, then Dooku's. Before he could light Sören's candle, a flame went up on the wick, which made Dooku's mouth open and Maglor's eyebrows raise, with gooseflesh breaking out over Sören's body under his layers of clothing. He'd had moments of power in the Force that had surprised him - like when he killed Einar, years ago. Making a tiny fire... it wasn't just surprising, it scared Sören a little, even more than when he'd used the Force for death. He realized that, being Fëanor reborn - the Spirit of Fire, the Flame Imperishable - that a talent for making fire just from his mind, his will, shouldn't have seemed so far-fetched. Nonetheless, he stared at the candle in his hands with a mixture of shock and disbelief.  
  
He looked up and Edenel's gaze was so hungry that it made Sören's cock jolt, his hole twitch. _Fuck, this is going to be a long wait._  
  
And yet, the little memorial was necessary. Edenel sat, and Maglor took a deep breath. He looked around the circle, and finally Dooku nodded.  
  
Maglor started by playing the _Noldolantë_ on acoustic guitar. Sören had heard it before, and it got him every time, but never had it affected him like tonight. With his mind's eye, Sören saw. Except before, it had been like watching the trailer of a movie, and then it had been like watching the entire film, and now Sören was right there, living it, transported into the Song itself.  
  
Fëanor as he was, and Maglor and his brothers, happy together, their idyllic life. The glory of the Silmarils, their power. Then Melkor and his greed, his betrayal. There was Fëanor's rebellion, the flight of the Noldor, the Doom of the Valar. Then Fëanor killed by a pack of Balrogs, going up in flame. And Fingolfin, challenging Melkor to single combat, nothing left to lose, determined to take Melkor out with him, managing to wound him before he fell.  
  
Then Tindómion, the son Maglor did not even know he had, being reunited with him for a brief shining time before more war came - war where Tindómion's beloved Gil-Galad fell, as his father Fingolfin before him. Tindómion walked into the mists, into the world of Men. Maglor followed but their paths never crossed, though he traveled the world. In his travels he taught much to humans - language and writing, arithmetic, medicine. He became a part of history that would never be known by name. He loved and lost, buried partners, friends, grieved, while carrying the weight of his deepest grief - the loss of his family. Even as he found places to stay and find companionship for a time, he was still achingly alone inside, making himself press on through his pain to bear witness to the Noldor, to carry their spirits in the Song.  
  
There was the time when Maglor was taken prisoner by Sauron and Melkor, tortured and wanting to die. He was found by Vanimórë and the passion they shared gave Maglor back his fight, which made him hate Vanimórë for eons. And then Tindómion's spirit guided him to Iceland, ages later, where Maglor found his father and uncle reborn in the land of fire and ice. The minor chords lifted and became brighter as Maglor played and sang of falling in love with them all over again, the return of passion and ecstasy that he had thought forever lost. The wasteland of his pain began to grow back to life, the fog lifting and revealing the brilliant northern lights, fire in the sky. There was the joy of finding most of his family again, reborn - not the same as before, but a certain sense of wonder in the process of rediscovery, something new, to go along with the way he himself had been changed by his time in the world of Men. There was Maglor's curse against the Valar, a promise to repay doom for Doom, that they would shed as many tears as they had brought the Noldor over the ages.  
  
Now there was a new part of the song, the brighter major chords once again darkening, descending to minor chords, melancholy, haunting. Just as Maglor had finally found peace and happiness in his life again after so long, it came crashing down with the Dagorath in another universe, feeling his own death, and reliving the death of his father and uncle all over again. Sören had already been crying, but now he lost it, sobbing, as he felt Maglor's brokenness.  
  
Dooku bowed his head in memory of the version of them that had been lost, shaking with silent tears.  
  
Maglor himself had tears spilling from his eyes when he stopped playing the _Noldolantë_. His eyes met Sören's and at the pain in Maglor's eyes Sören let out a sob. He wanted to go to him, to hold him as they wept together, but Edenel put a hand on Sören's arm, restraining him.  
  
 _He is not done yet,_ Edenel spoke into Sören's mind.  
  
Maglor had a few sips of the hot chocolate that had been brought outside, kept warm in a thermos. The snowfall that had stopped long enough to get the bonfire going and for Maglor to play the _Noldolantë_ started again, snowflakes falling on them bright and gleaming like they were the very particles of the spirits that had fallen. And the reminder of winter - of the cold and the dark - seemed fitting when the fire of Fëanor and his kin had gone out in one world, the entire multiverse feeling the hollow.  
  
Maglor flexed his fingers, took some deep breaths to try to calm himself - though Sören could feel he wasn't calm at all - and now he played something more modern... something that spoke to the raw, stinging center of their collective pain.  
  
 _I close my eyes  
Only for a moment, and the moment's gone  
All my dreams  
Pass before my eyes, a curiosity  
  
Dust in the wind  
All they are is dust in the wind  
  
Same old song  
Just a drop of water in an endless sea  
All we do  
Crumbles to the ground, though we refuse to see  
  
Dust in the wind  
All we are is dust in the wind  
  
Now don't hang on  
Nothing lasts forever but the earth and sky  
It slips away  
And all your money won't another minute buy  
  
Dust in the wind  
All we are is dust in the wind  
(All we are is dust in the wind)  
Dust in the wind  
(Everything is dust in the wind)  
Everything is dust in the wind  
(In the wind)_  
  
  
With the snow falling like so much diamond dust, and the ache in Maglor's voice, the song tugged at Sören's heart.  
  
And not just his. Now Edenel broke, sobbing violently. They were all crying now but Edenel was crying the hardest, sounding as if someone were torturing him - and indeed, Sören could feel he was tortured, on the inside. Sören couldn't begin to imagine what it was like for him, having been captured and captive to Melkor for so long, put through unspeakable horrors at the hands of Orcs, Fell-wolves, Balrogs, Melkor and Sauron themselves, then at last being reunited with his family after so long, finding comfort with them, finding a purpose in life besides hunting the type of monsters that had hurt him. Now that family was gone, and though Edenel was here with another world's version it wasn't the same. Sören knew he couldn't be what Fëanor had been, even if his soul was Fëanor's soul and there was much about him that was the same inside, he wasn't an Elf, he wasn't a god, and there were still things about Sören that were Sören, the product of this lifetime as a human in modern Earth. Sören knew he couldn't replace what was lost, and even more than the tragedy of one world's Fëanor and Fingolfin and Maglor and the others being gone forever, Sören mourned for the few survivors of the Dagorath - Edenel, Coldagnir, Van, Celebrimbor - who had to live with this, now. It felt to Sören like a bottomless abyss of hurt, and Sören hurt for Edenel, desperately wanting to ease his pain at least a little.  
  
Edenel was weeping brokenly enough that Sören, Maglor and Dooku brought him inside before the neighbors could hear and inquire if he was all right. Sören sat with Edenel on the couch, holding him and rocking him, stroking the flood of white hair and making soothing noises, trying to be strong for him through his own tears; Dooku and Maglor went back to the yard to put out the fire, collect the guitar and the other things left outside, and then they came back in and fussed over Edenel some more.  
  
The white-ice-burning-diamonds smell from Edenel was even stronger now, and after a few minutes Dooku and Maglor looked at each other, nodded, and went down the hall. They came out with their overnight bags, and Maglor had the leash for Huan. "We're going to take Huan to the hotel with us so he won't interrupt when he needs to go out," Maglor explained.  
  
Sören nodded. "All right. You guys are just going for tonight?"  
  
Dooku and Maglor looked at Edenel, and Edenel nodded, and then they nodded. "We'll be back tomorrow morning," Dooku said.  
  
Sören hugged and kissed each of them in turn, and then they were off, waving to Edenel; Huan gave a yip as he trotted out the door.

_

  
Instead of going back to the couch where Edenel sat, Sören went to the linen closet and brought out things to make up a bed in front of the fireplace in the living room. Then he started the fireplace - he tried to use the Force to light it, but though he could light a tealight outside, he still wasn't there yet where he could light a larger fire.  
  
Edenel noticed, feeling what he was trying to do. "You'll get there with practice," he said.  
  
Sören began to undress. "So... are you about ready?"  
  
"Yes, Sören, but the question is, are _you_ ready."  
  
Sören paused and bit his lower lip. "Depends on what you're wanting to do."  
  
"There is a very ancient practice of my kind," Edenel said, "called the _Anguish_. I need this, tonight."  
  
"Is it like BDSM..."  
  
"Not quite." Their eyes met. "If we do this, you will take me. I will beg for my release, and you will deny me - and hold back your own release - as long as possible. Hours, if possible. The extreme of pleasure-pain. It causes a very powerful catharsis, and is best given to one who has experienced trauma, by one who has also survived trauma. It is why I asked for you specifically. Tomorrow, Fingolfin and Maglor can join in the more... usual... pleasures. But tonight, I need this. And I think you do, as well."  
  
"And you want me to give it to you?"  
  
"Yes, Sören."  
  
"I always thought you were more of a top, especially after..." His voice trailed off; he didn't need to finish the sentence.  
  
"Usually, yes. But there are exceptions to that, and tonight is an exception. And I _trust_ you, Sören."  
  
Those last words - the longing that shook Edenel's voice, the fierce hunger in his eyes - made Sören's already-hard cock stiffen even more. Edenel's lips quirked without humor, and without another word he rose and began to undress, carefully folding his clothes on the coffee table.  
  
When Edenel was naked, he and Sören fell on each other, kissing fiercely, cocks rubbing together. They lay back against the pile of blankets and pillows in front of the fire. Sören pushed Edenel back against the pillows, stroked his face, kissed his brow, lips sliding down his nose before their mouths met again.  
  
"If I'm going to make you crazy, then I'm _really_ going to make you crazy," Sören said, his fingers brushing Edenel's nipple before he pinched it, making Edenel moan. "Let's not do anything halfway."  
  
"I would expect nothing less from you, Fëanor."  
  
Sören kissed him deeply, Edenel kissing him back with hunger that made Sören's cock throb. After a few passionate kisses, Sören began to kiss and lick Edenel's neck, and when he bit Edenel's neck, the way Edenel cried out and arched to him made Sören want to take him right away. But they had only just begun.  
  
Sören kissed down the shoulder to feast on Edenel's nipples, his lips, tongue and teeth teasing them into aching, swollen peaks, lapping and suckling hard, pinching them with his fingers and thumb, tugging with his teeth, nibbling. Sören loved watching him respond, breathing hard, eyes glazed over, moaning, and every moan Edenel made went right to his cock. Sören spent a long time there, until Edenel was writhing, begging, "Sören, _please_."  
  
Sören kissed down to Edenel's stomach, licking the hard definition in his abs, nibbling. He licked and kissed and nibbled down one hip and thigh, and back up the other. He licked Edenel's cock all over, with slow, deliberate strokes of his tongue, then thirsty lapping, slowing down again as Edenel got more vocal, clutching at his curls, pulling. Sören sucked his cock slowly, his eyes locked with Edenel's, gently playing with Edenel's balls as the slow heat of his mouth made Edenel's cock stiffen and leak precum even more.  
  
Then his tongue was inside Edenel, readying him. Edenel bucked and cried out, thrashed around, almost sobbing as Sören's tongue fucked that sweet spot inside him, making him ache to be filled.  
  
At last Sören deemed that Edenel was properly prepared to be taken. He poured a generous amount of lubricant inside Edenel, and over his own cock. After a few last licks at the slit of Edenel's cockhead, savoring the taste of his precum, Sören came up to kiss Edenel and began to push inside, slowly. When Sören was all the way inside, Edenel gave a deep groan and Sören responded with one of his own, shivering.  
  
Sören took a few slow thrusts, and then Edenel grit out, "Take me hard, Sören. As hard as you can."  
  
With a kiss, Sören sped up. And with a bite at the sweet spot where Edenel's neck and shoulder met, Sören drove into him even harder, faster. The tight, silken heat of him was beyond delicious, all the more when Edenel worked his inner muscles, gripping Sören's cock and releasing, rippling around him - Edenel was not going to make this easy for Sören to deny them both release.  
  
But Sören welcomed a challenge, and more importantly, he could feel the _need_ in Edenel, the need to be taken out of his head for awhile, away from the horror of the Dagorath and the horror of the emptiness and silence afterwards, into passion, into fire, where the only thing that mattered was their bodies, their pleasure, the primal act of mating together, _fucking_ , flesh joined with flesh, wild and alive.  
  
Sören hooked one of Edenel's legs around his waist, took Edenel's face in his hands, and kissed him again and again. Their kisses, tongues lashing together, and the way their kisses were mirrored below, Edenel's insides kissing his cock, Sören's cock probing like his tongue, drove them right to that edge right away. Edenel moaned into the kisses, cried out, and he rocked against Sören, continuing to clench-and-release the cock pounding into him, panting, "Sören, please, please..."  
  
"Not yet," Sören rasped, and kissed him harder. He bit Edenel's lower lip hard enough to draw blood and sucked it into his mouth, Edenel giving a shuddery sigh, trembling against him.  
  
They began to work up a sweat, and the scent of Edenel's heat combined with the musk and salt of their sweat was intoxicating. The slap of their damp flesh and the obscene wet slurping sound of Sören plunging in and out of him just added to the excitement, that animal feeling that overtook them. Sören growled and Edenel responded with a growl of his own. Sören bit Edenel's neck again and now Edenel bit him back, Sören shivering against him with the bite, cock throbbing inside him, that much closer. Edenel gave him a lazy smile, sensing the power he had over him. Sören kissed him roughly and bit him again.  
  
On and on they fucked - both of Edenel's legs went around Sören's waist, Edenel bucking underneath him feverishly. He clawed Sören's back, bit his neck and shoulder - always bitten back, Sören growling with each bite - and Edenel panted, "Sören. Fëanor. Please. _Please._ "  
  
" _No,_ " Sören rasped, and kissed him hard. "Not yet."  
  
Edenel gave a desperate whimper. " _Please_ , Sören."  
  
"No."  
  
And it took Sören everything he had to hold back, to not give in and let Edenel come, coming with him. Sören's own balls and cock ached, tightening until it was almost unbearable - Edenel felt more and more delicious, the silk of him kissing Sören's cock so sweetly, and Edenel's cries and the look of lust and hunger on his face... watching his beautiful warrior's body sweat and writhe... Sören felt like he was going out of his mind, let alone driving Edenel to the brink. Still he thrusted away, fast and furious, balls slapping Edenel's ass, losing himself in the fever of sexual need.  
  
They lost all sense of time, Sören and Edenel both trembling, gasping for breath. Sören lost count of how many times Edenel had begged, but it was too much, and yet not enough. It felt like each thrust was driving back the Dark itself, the lingering influence of Melkor across the universe - blinding Sauron's watchful gaze with the fire they raised between them. Fucking Edenel like this felt so good it _hurt_ , his body ached so much for release it _hurt_ , and yet he made himself keep going, made Edenel keep holding back, as much as he could take, as long as he could take it. They needed to feel alive again. They needed to see light, after the quenching of one Flame, and so they needed to burn.  
  
Sören rose to his knees, Edenel's legs on his shoulders. His hands slid over Edenel's sweat-damp flesh, trembling at the feel of his hard muscles, the sight of them rippling as Edenel bucked and writhed beneath him. Edenel had been clawing Sören's back hard enough to draw blood, and now Edenel's nails raked Sören's chest and thighs, Sören shivering and moaning, gasping at the sweet sting.  
  
"Sören, _please!_ "  
  
Sören continued his savage, punishing thrusts. "You come when I say you can come, because you are _mine_." His fingers teased one of Edenel's nipples. "Always mine. In every world, every place, I have claimed you, you belong to me. Mine. My own."  
  
Edenel gave a strangled sob. "Fëanor. Sören. Please. I beg you. _Please._ "  
  
Sören leaned down and grabbed Edenel's hair to make him lean up. Their mouths met fiercely, as if they were trying to devour each other. Sören bit Edenel's neck again and Edenel bit him back, and their mouths crushed together once more, then their tongues rubbed and lashed together, teasing, playing, before another deep, hungry kiss. They were both so close now, right on that point of no return, too far gone in their lust and want and need...  
  
"Sören. Please. Please. _Please._ "  
  
"No." _Just a few minutes longer._ Sören licked Edenel's neck before kissing his mouth again. When their tongues licked between kisses, Sören's balls tightened dangerously, the pleasure-tension starting to surge. Sören rose up and slammed into Edenel as hard as he could, balls slapping wildly, Edenel giving a deep guttural noise as Sören's cock rubbed that sweet spot inside him - and Sören could feel it across their bond, like his own insides were being stroked just right.  
  
"Oh god," Sören gasped.  
  
Edenel heard that and started clenching him again. Started playing with his cock, to tease Sören with the sight of it. Sören slowed down - driving himself crazy to, but he needed to re-establish control. He frantically scanned the room for something to tie Edenel with, and a scarf flew from the coatrack and Sören grabbed Edenel's arms and used the Force to tie the scarf around Edenel's wrists. Then he sped up, and started to stroke Edenel's cock himself, in time with the thrusts, until his hand was a blur.  
  
Edenel couldn't even make words to beg now. He looked at Sören with tears in his eyes, gasping for breath, his entire body shaking. Sören slowed down the stroking of Edenel's cock and licked his lips involuntarily at all the precum flowing, Edenel's cock glistening with it. With his free hand he teased Edenel's nipples, making Edenel moan and shudder, and then he collected some precum on his fingers and shoved them into Edenel's mouth. The heat in Edenel's eyes as he sucked Sören's fingers slowly and sensually made Sören's cock throb again, _right there right there so close_...  
  
He couldn't hold back anymore. "Come for me," Sören rasped.  
  
Edenel shot over Sören's chest and stomach with a hoarse shout. Two thrusts later Sören was done, giving into the hardest orgasm of his life, the contractions going on and on, the pain and frantic urgency giving way to relief and an indescribable feeling of joy - yet also awe, feeling like they'd rended their very souls together, had touched something very deep inside their hearts, cleansing a wound with fire.  
  
Sören and Edenel lay together, holding each other, shaking as they came down from their intense, shattering climax. Sören started to doze off and then he heard cats purring - the three cats had gathered around them now, offering their comfort - and Edenel smiled fondly at him, kissed his brow, gave him a tender, gentle kiss on the lips. "Thank you, my dear," Edenel said.  
  
"Thank _you._ " Sören patted him, feeling dazed. "That was..." He didn't even have words. "That was."  
  
"Yes." Edenel nodded. He kissed Sören again. "I love you."  
  
Sören's arms tightened around him. "I love you too, Ada." He snuggled against Edenel. "Are you OK? Are you in any pain?"  
  
"I'll be sore later, when the endorphins wear off. I could use some water, and so could you."  
  
Sören got up - shaking, his own body starting to ache - and he went to the kitchen and came back with a pitcher of ice water and drinking glasses. He set it down and then went to the medicine cabinet in the bathroom and came back with a box of hand wipes, a tube of aloe vera gel, and pain relief cream that Dooku had needed for his arthritis before immortality fixed it. After Edenel drank, Sören had him roll over and he squirted aloe gel into Edenel's well-used opening, and rubbed the aloe gel around it. Edenel gasped at the cold gel in him, and then Sören's touch on his sensitized skin.  
  
Then Sören began to rub the pain relief cream onto Edenel's muscles, kneading vigorously. He had Edenel roll over so he could get his back and the backs of his thighs and calves too, and once Edenel was coated with the cream, Edenel applied some to Sören - Sören felt a frisson of arousal at his touch, but was too spent to go again.  
  
Sören had some water finally, and they wiped their hands and settled back in each other's arms, cuddling and watching the fire. Edenel stroked Sören's curls and Sören stretched, making a little noise of contentment as his arms tightened around Edenel.  
  
"Was I OK?" Sören asked.  
  
Edenel chuckled. "Sören, you were better than OK. It was exactly what I needed. You were magnificent. Awe-inspiring." Their eyes met. "If I didn't know better, I would have thought you'd given the _Anguish_ before."  
  
"I can marathon fuck," Sören said, "but it's never been... like that. I at least usually allow myself a few orgasms instead of that... one... big one."  
  
"You can understand now why it is a practice with our kind," Edenel said, and Sören realized Edenel was including him in that, as if Edenel considered him an Elf too. "It is a very potent tool for healing."  
  
"I'm glad my tool is potent," Sören said before he could stop himself.  
  
Edenel's eyes widened - Sören worried for a few seconds that Edenel would be offended, thinking it mockery of something sacred and magical - and then Edenel began to laugh, a genuine, full-body, belly-shaking laugh, turning red and tearing up. It was the first time Sören had heard Edenel laugh since before he'd left for the Dagorath, and it brought tears to Sören's eyes, relieved that Edenel could laugh again, at least at this.  
  
Edenel knew the gravity of it as well. He stroked Sören's face tenderly, and gave him a little kiss. He kissed the tears that silently spilled down Sören's cheeks. Then he smirked and said, "Hi, Glad My Tool Is Potent."  
  
Sören blinked. "Did you..." He couldn't believe it. " _Did you just make a dad joke._ " He started to shake with laughter, as much from the surreality of Edenel, the "white demon" making a joke as from Edenel getting him with his own weapon.  
  
"Well, I am sort of your father..."  
  
Sören dished it right back. "Hi Sort Of Your Father..."  
  
Edenel swatted Sören's ass. Sören grabbed his nose, and Edenel grabbed Sören's nose, and then Sören found himself tickling Edenel. Edenel writhed and howled helplessly until Sören moved in such a way that Edenel got him under the armpits, and Sören shrieked and giggled until he was snorting, Edenel merciless in his tickling.  
  
They finally calmed down and rolled back together again, smiling, nuzzling. Edenel stroked Sören's curls and said softly, "You should get some rest."  
  
"We both should."  
  
Edenel nodded.  
  
"So..." Sören bit his lower lip, curious. "Are you going to return the favor, at some point?"  
  
"Only if you need it. This isn't for all the time, or it loses its magic. But... it is useful for you to know of this, useful for you to have this skill set. Someday you may be in a position to give this to someone else... or have this given to you by someone else."  
  
"Someday." Sören mumbled, feeling the sleepiness overtake him quickly as the pain cream started to tingle with heat. "You speak like there will be a future."  
  
"I would not have come here if there was not."  
  
Sören closed his eyes, and in his mind's eye he saw something that looked, felt like a someday: his body and the lean-muscled, soldier-or-athlete's body of someone he didn't recognize - no faces, just his own torso unmistakable with its ink and piercings, and the other body on top of his, pale, a light furring of dark chest hair and hair on the arms and legs. Their bodies sweaty, glistening, writhing together. Sören's nails raking the shapely back, drawing blood, Sören's voice panting "please, please, please let me come..." as the man thrusted into him as fiercely as he had taken Edenel. Sören almost sobbing, losing his mind with desperate need.  
  
The vision was gone, and soon thought was gone away, only melting and sinking down, down, down into the repose of sleep.


	18. Dying Of the Light

**Dying Of the Light**

  
  
  
Sören spent most of Sunday, November first sleeping - this time, not because of depression, but to recover from the _Anguish_ ritual the night before. In the evening Sören, Edenel, Maglor and Dooku had a foursome, and slept in the next day.  
  
On Monday, November second, things _almost_ felt back to normal, except for the "new normal" of the fog of depression that had fallen over Sören, making him unable to draw or paint or even think about art, and not able to do much more than watch TV or play Stardew Valley. But he was for once feeling restless and wanting to get out of the house rather than sit around in a blanket heap. He went out to walk Huan with Maglor, taking a longer walk than usual, stopping to get hot chocolate in Akureyri. After they got back, Sören went out with Dooku to go grocery shopping and run some other errands, like putting petrol in the jeep and paying utility bills.  
  
In the late afternoon, Edenel told Sören, "We must continue your training."  
  
Sören wasn't really in the mood to spar, but Dooku gave him a look that let him know he agreed with Edenel, and with a reluctant sigh Sören got up, took Tindómion's sword - his sword now - and followed Edenel into the backyard.  
  
Sören faced off against Maglor, against Dooku, against Edenel. In the fatigue of depression he was beaten easily, and indeed, didn't see the point of this anymore, especially when Edenel was the best fighter out of all of them and Sören felt very outclassed. Sören didn't even try, and threw the matches quickly.  
  
Dooku got up for another round after Edenel beat Sören, and Sören growled, irritated. "I want to go inside now," Sören grumbled.  
  
Dooku took a deep breath. "Forgive me," he said, and then he Force threw Sören. Sören fell hard several feet away in a snowbank - if the snow hadn't broken his fall he likely would have sprained something or at the very least had some nasty bruises to show for it.  
  
"Hey," Sören yelled. "What the _fuck_? Cut me a little slack -"  
  
Dooku clenched his fist and Sören rose two feet into the air. He could feel himself choking. He started to flail in a panic, tried to call out to beg Dooku to stop. Their eyes met, and there was sadness in Dooku's dark eyes.  
  
Across their bond, Sören felt it: the concern that, since Sauron had survived the Dagorath, sooner or later they might have to face him... and whatever Sauron decided to send their way. Sören desperately wanted to hide under his covers again, painfully aware of his own weakness - that if the ascended Fëanor could not protect Fingolfin and the others, how much moreso he could not, as he was; prior to becoming immortal he was asthmatic, and in childhood he had been a runt, a weakling, always picked last for mandatory-participation sports in school, made fun of by his peers.  
  
Now Dooku was trying to goad Sören into putting up more of a fight. _You have to at least try. If we are going to make it, in this world, you need to_ try. _Please._  
  
Sören pushed back with the Force, as hard as he could, until the chokehold broke. And, annoyed that he couldn't just go inside and be done with what he considered a pointless exercise - angry now - Sören used the Force to bring the sword over to him. "Come and take it" was etched on the blade in Tengwar; now Sören growled, "Come and get it," as he took the sword and went on the offense, charging.  
  
That was exactly what Dooku wanted, smiling as blade clashed blade.  
  
Sören finally gave Dooku a real fight, and Dooku gave it right back, swords swinging. Every feint that Dooku made raised Sören's anger even hotter, every parry and riposte had Sören gritting his teeth. At last Dooku made a critical slip where Sören's blade touched his stomach - would have disemboweled him if Dooku were an enemy. Dooku said, "Yield," quietly and for a few seconds Sören felt victory.  
  
Then he realized Dooku's misstep had been deliberate, throwing the match so Sören would finally feel like he'd won. And that infuriated him even more.  
  
" _Don't you fucking feel sorry for me_ ," Sören said, and charged with his sword just as Dooku was retreating.  
  
And, as their swords met once more, Sören sensed across their bond that _that_ had been deliberate as well - Dooku knew that throwing the match and letting Sören win would anger him and make him fight all the harder.  
  
" _Fuck you,_ " Sören growled through grit teeth.  
  
Dooku gave him a small, predatory smile, eyes twinkling. "Later."  
  
It hurt to be pushed like this, even as Sören knew it was for his own good. He wanted to disappear back into the fog of apathy and hopelessness, and Dooku wasn't exactly the poster child of hope himself at the moment, but he had more hope for the future than Sören did - a hope contingent on, someday, dealing with the threat still shadowing them in this world, their world's version of the Valar, and Odin, and the Sauron of the Prime universe at large.  
  
It also hurt to be reminded of a long time ago, when Fëanor would disappear into his forge, absorbing himself in his projects to, increasingly, hide from the sting of scorn real or perceived, and the way Fingolfin would goad him out. They had loved each other so fiercely, and the fighting between them had been part of that ferocious love. Fëanor never loved Fingolfin so well as when he hated him. Sören and Dooku had enjoyed a cozy, content domestic bliss these last few years - as if they were, on a soul-deep level, making up for lost time, needing a moment of peace after eons of war, togetherness after the rift of the Void. But now some of that old tension had returned in the raw, nasty wound of the Dagorath, Sören feeling angry that Dooku was challenging him like this when he didn't feel ready, wanted more time to rest.  
  
And yet as much as it hurt, it was also strangely comforting. A reminder that indeed, nothing was truly ended - they were still Fëanor and Fingolfin on the inside, and their story was still being written.  
  
Dooku made short work of Sören. Within a few moves, Dooku's blade was against Sören's heart - as before, would have struck the death blow if this were not a mere sparring match.  
  
"You fought well," Dooku said, giving Sören a fencing salute.  
  
"Fuck you," Sören said again.  
  
Sören felt like throwing his sword, but that was no way to treat a relic that Tindómion himself had carried into battle. And indeed, after Sören stormed inside and hung up his sword, he felt almost as if his distant ancestor were looking at him from another universe, disappointed that Sören had given up so easily earlier.  
  
 _Come and take it._ Sören's fingers traced the Tengwar script etched on the blade. Words that felt like they were from outside of him: _If they would come for your life, you must not hand it over to them so easily._  
  
Sören made a disgruntled noise. Without thinking, just letting his feet and his feelings carry him, he trudged off to the bathroom, and turned on the shower, as hot as he could stand it. He undressed and climbed in, and just leaned against the wall for a moment, his eyes closed, letting the heat of the spray beat down on him, breathing in the steam.  
  
He was aware of a touch in the Force, and then, saw Dooku climbing into the shower with him, naked.  
  
"What are you -"  
  
Dooku seized Sören's wrists and pushed him up against the wall. Sören gasped at the feel of Dooku's hard cock pressed against him, and moaned as Dooku claimed his mouth, kissing him hard, tongues duelling as their swords had a short while ago. Now Sören's cock rose too, sliding against his.  
  
They pulled apart, breathing hard. Dooku let go of his wrists and before Sören could stop himself, his hands were sliding over Dooku's body, trembling at the feel of his defined muscles, the fur on his arms, the chest hair. Dooku trembled at Sören's touch as well, and his hands covered Sören's, guiding them before he took Sören's face in his hands and kissed him again, more gently this time.  
  
"I love you, you know," Dooku said, looking into Sören's eyes.  
  
"Fuck you," Sören said, this time with humor, and now he was the one to initiate the kiss, reaching down to take both their hard cocks into his fist, stroking slowly. Dooku groaned and one hand covered Sören's hand on their cocks, the other pet Sören's face, caressed his chest, fingers teasing a pierced nipple to life. Dooku gave that knowing smile when Sören gasped and shuddered.  
  
Dooku used the Force to bring over Sören's preferred body wash, nonchalant, and then used the Force to pour it over Sören's chest. His hands lathered Sören, making Sören moan at his caress, breaking out into gooseflesh. The bottle of soap tilted to pour over their cocks, adding extra lubrication that made them both groan at the sweetness of Sören stroking them harder. Then, with a smirk, Dooku removed Sören's hand from their cocks and at the annoyed look Sören gave him, he said, "Well, I need to reach the back of you, don't I?"  
  
Sören rolled his eyes and gave an exaggerated sigh, and when he turned around - letting the spray rinse off the front of him, the spray teasing his aching, throbbing cock - Dooku swatted Sören's ass before he began to lather the back of Sören in slow, lazy circles. When his hands moved lower, cupping and rubbing Sören's ass, Sören cried out, and again when he felt Dooku's hard cock rubbing in the crack of his ass. Sören moaned as Dooku began to kiss and nibble his neck, his shoulder.  
  
"I did what I had to do," Dooku rasped. "I can't lose you again, Fëanáro. I _won't_ lose you again."  
  
Sören felt a tight lump in his throat, and his chest tightened, ached. Dooku's arms came around him from behind, holding him, and Sören tilted his face so they could kiss.  
  
Dooku shampooed Sören - massaging the scalp as he did, draining the tension out of Sören's body, making him have to lean against the shower wall to not fall over. Then Sören lathered Dooku slowly, deliberately, wanting to touch, feel, tease. Dooku washed his hair and beard - Sören giggled at the sight of soap bubbles on Dooku's beard - and then as he rinsed off they held each other under the spray, kissing, hard cocks rubbing together once more.  
  
When they left the shower, they kissed all the way to the bed. They used the Force to towel off before they fell on the bed together, kissing, hands roaming, cocks rubbing. They rubbed noses and looked into each other's eyes, and the tenderness in Dooku's dark eyes made Sören ache again.  
  
"I love you too," Sören husked.  
  
"I know." Dooku kissed the tip of his nose. "And I know it's hard for you right now -"  
  
Sören looked down at their cocks and grinned. "I'd say."  
  
Dooku rolled his eyes. "Sören, I'm being serious." And then a muttered, " _oh no_."  
  
"Hi Being Serious -"  
  
Dooku shoved Sören onto his back with a growl, and pinned Sören's wrists again as he had done in the shower as he kissed him. Sören cried out into the kiss, cock jolting against Dooku's, his hole twitching, longing to be filled.  
  
Dooku gave him a look. "I didn't like goading you out there, but we have to..."  
  
"I know." Sören nodded and kissed him. "I just... feel so hopeless. We were _gods_ and we couldn't keep ourselves from -"  
  
"We're going to _try_ to make sure that doesn't happen here." Dooku's eyes were fierce. "And if we can't... we're going to give them hell and take them down with us. But I have no intention of going down."  
  
"That's too bad." Sören crinkled his nose and bit his lower lip.  
  
Dooku realized what he'd just said, and facepalmed. Sören's laughter rang out - he surprised himself with how hard he laughed - and he took advantage of his wrists being free to throw his arms around Dooku and kiss him hard, still laughing into the kiss.  
  
"You are _incorrigible_ ," Dooku rasped, kissing Sören's neck, making him shiver.  
  
" _Takk._ "  
  
"And I love you." Dooku cupped Sören's chin in his hand and looked into his eyes - now there was as much ferocity as there was tenderness in those dark chocolate eyes, sending another shiver through Sören's body, cock twinging. "And I intend on spending eternity with you and your _goddamn terrible_ jokes, and your laughter..." He kissed Sören's neck again, and then licked it, smiling at the way Sören cried out and bucked against him. "And your passion." Dooku stroked Sören's face. "I goaded you not just because you need to train, need to be able to fight when it's time to fight... but I needed to feel your _fire_ , Fëanáro. It has been so cold -"  
  
Sören kissed him hard, silencing him. Tears burned Sören's eyes. He used the Force to get their lubricant. But before he could pour it over their cocks, Dooku used the Force to push the lubricant bottle down to the bed. "Not yet," he rasped. Then he started to kiss his way down - Sören gasped as Dooku lapped a pierced nipple, and made a guttural noise as Dooku drew the pebbled nub into his mouth, sucking hard. Sören's cock and hole throbbed again, wanting him, and the next few minutes were exquisite torture, Dooku going back and forth between his nipples, fingers and thumb rubbing one as his lips and tongue teased the other, heat in his eyes. Sören shuddered and cried out when Dooku tugged the rings with his teeth before licking harder, faster, and moaned when he slowed down, brushing with feather-light strokes of his tongue, knowing just how to drive Sören crazy.  
  
Dooku kissed down Sören's stomach, down one thigh and up the other. He hovered over Sören's cock, breathing in the scent of him before he took a lick.  
  
"I guess you do have intention of going down." Sören smiled.  
  
"Very much so." With that, Dooku took Sören's cock into his mouth.  
  
He sucked slowly, languidly, making Sören crazier. Sören arched to him, clutched his head, panting, gasping, moaning, his balls tightening desperately as Dooku's mouth worked on him, back and forth. Dooku moaned around Sören's cock and Sören realized he was stroking himself as he sucked. That thought was too delicious for Sören to stand and he begged, "Let me suck you too."  
  
They settled into the sixty-nine position, laying at each other's sides; Dooku sucked more urgently than before and Sören sucked him hungrily, greedy for it. Sören made "mmmmm" noises with his mouth full, as Dooku continued to moan with his mouth full of Sören. Sören cupped and gently rubbed Dooku's balls and then his fingers strayed to that sensitive place between balls and ass, and when a finger slid inside him, Dooku cried out with his mouth full, his cock pulsing in Sören's mouth. Dooku returned the favor, fingering Sören, and Sören let Dooku's cock slip from his mouth to whisper, "oh _fuck_ yes," before taking a few teasing licks.  
  
The sweetness around him and inside him, and the lust Sören felt worshiping Dooku's cock, brought Sören close to the edge within a few minutes. Soon Dooku was right there with him, trembling. Their fingers fucked harder, and though Sören was aching to come, he needed to keep it going just a few minutes more, and took Dooku's cock out of his mouth and replaced the fingers with his tongue, hand stroking Dooku's cock as his tongue played inside him. With a groan Dooku followed suit and Sören cried out into him, not able to help from rocking against his husband's face, fucking himself on Dooku's tongue.  
  
As they felt each other getting ever closer, they resumed sucking and fingering each other again. And when Sören felt himself crossing that point of no return, his free hand took Dooku's and squeezed.  
  
 _Come with me, Ñolo._  
  
Sören came first, making a whimper around the cock in his mouth as he let go, and a few seconds later he tasted his husband, Dooku shuddering and groaning as he spilled in Sören's mouth. Sören savored and swallowed, and licked him clean until Dooku pulled Sören off his cock, laughing softly. "Too sensitive, dear."  
  
They kissed, sharing the salty-sweet aftertaste of each other, and Sören snuggled against Dooku as he recovered. A few minutes of Sören rubbing Dooku's chest, fingers combing the chest hair and then "accidentally" brushing a nipple, playing with it, and Dooku's cock woke up again. Now Dooku used the Force to pick up the lube, and with Sören on his back, Dooku climbed on top of him, looking into Sören's eyes as he guided his cock to Sören's opening.  
  
Sören held him close and tight, kissing him as Dooku thrust into him slowly, sensually, teasingly. Dooku kissed and licked and nibbled Sören's neck, and began to lap and suckle Sören's nipples again. Sören moaned and sighed, rolling his hips back at Dooku; he shivered as Dooku's hands ran over his smooth skin, felt the love and desire in his touch. Dooku's lips and tongue on Sören's sensitive, hard nipples made Sören writhe, panting, bucking underneath him, trying to get Dooku to fuck him harder, and Dooku grabbed Sören's hips, asserting his control and continuing to fuck him slowly. The slow, sweet rubbing against the magic spot in Sören was almost too delicious to bear, Sören whimpering, trembling, gasping for breath.  
  
At last Sören couldn't take it anymore and gave Dooku a shove, rolling Dooku onto his back. Dooku looked up at him with smug amusement as Sören grabbed Dooku's shoulders and began to ride, hard and fast, frantic, hungry. Dooku swatted Sören's ass and then he grabbed Sören's hips and matched his rhythm, rocking into him. Sören cried out and panted, "yes, yes, _yes_." He screamed when Dooku leaned up to resume kissing his nipples, tugging the rings harder, nibbling on them. He clutched Dooku's head to his chest, cock stiffening and pulsing, the wild rubbing on the sweet spot inside him threatening to bring him off any moment. "Oh fuck," Sören gasped. "Oh fuck, Nico, Ñolo, oh fuck, _fuck_..."  
  
Their eyes met, and then Dooku drew a nipple back into his mouth, sucking hard, as his thumb rubbed the other. Sören could feel Dooku's cock throbbing inside him, the love-lust across their bond, and that made it even better, Sören bucking even harder, desperate in his need, in his _want_.  
  
 _I love it when you're like this, Fëanáro,_ Dooku spoke into his mind. The hand that was teasing Sören's nipple went up to stroke his face, then his thumb was in Sören's mouth...  
  
 _Daddy! Pabbi!_ And like that, Sören climaxed with a fierce howl, shooting over Dooku's chest and stomach. A few thrusts later and Dooku came too, moaning, "Sören. I love you. I love you, sweetheart..."  
  
Sören grabbed Dooku's face and kissed him. Dooku's arms held Sören tight as they continued pulsing together, pleasure shimmering through them again and again, warmth flooding them... burning together. The room seemed to glow, a shining mist surrounding them, like a protective cocoon, their own private sacred space.  
  
"I love you," Sören whispered, and kissed Dooku's forehead, slid his lips down the patrician nose to kiss the tip, and at last kissed his mouth deeply, sweetly.  
  
They held each other and rocked together, basking in the literal afterglow, tears spilling down Sören's cheeks. They had touched something together, some sort of ancient magic between them rediscovered, and Sören wanted to stay in this moment as long as possible. But at last the light faded and they lay there, tangled up together, dozing off together contentedly, holding each other's hands.  
  
Maglor cleared his throat, and Sören's eyes opened to see an amused-looking Maglor and Edenel standing there, watching them expectantly.  
  
"I hope you're not too spent," Maglor said with a smile.  
  
"Get over here," Sören said, and Dooku laughed. He stopped laughing when Maglor's underwear hit him in the face - Maglor making a dramatic flourish as he undressed. Then he let out a growl as Edenel climbed on the bed, naked, and pulled him into a kiss.  
  
  
_  
  
  
At some point late in the evening they had gotten up to eat leftovers, feed the animals, and Maglor and Sören took Huan outside for Huan to do his business. As Sören stood there in the yard and looked up at the night sky, and the full moon, he was reminded of when he was a small child and he and Dag stood in this very yard to say goodnight to the moon and the stars - Dag's fascination with the stars was likely what led to him becoming an astrophysicist. Sören thought about Dag now, under that same sky in Canada.  
  
 _Miss you,_ Sören pushed across their bond, over the many miles.  
  
He felt a moment later like he was being hugged, and he smiled.  
  
Then he thought of Finrod's father - where he was right now, what he was doing. If he'd felt the Dagorath, if he was OK.  
  
 _You should be here with us, Arafinwë. We are stronger together._  
  
And it wasn't just that part of his family he missed. He thought of Van, hiding away wherever he was... and Kol. Coldagnir. Coldagnir needed to come back to the people who loved him. Sören closed his eyes and felt for Coldagnir's presence in the Force - that warm, glittering burn like sunshine - and hugged it the way Dag had just hugged him.  
  
Then, with a sigh, Sören went back inside.  
  
  
_  
  
  
Tuesday, November third was another day that Sören slept in, necessarily. He had wanted to wake up earlier, since the US was having a rather important election that would affect the rest of the world and he wanted to keep an eye on the news, but his body needed the rest from the sex last night plus the aggressive sparring. What woke him up, finally, was hearing a loud knock on the door, and then Dooku's voice at the door: "Kol. It's good to see you."  
  
"OH MY GOD KOLLLLLL." Sören tore out of bed and ran down the hall in a T-shirt and pajama bottoms, and pounce-tackled Coldagnir like a cat, squeezing him hard. "KOL. OH MY GOD. KOL. _KOL._ " He laughed and cried, relief flooding him even as he could feel the sorrow in Coldagnir's soul, the horror at what he, too, had seen in the Dagorath.  
  
"Sören." Coldagnir tousled Sören's curls and kissed the top of his head.  
  
Sören pulled back so Coldagnir and Edenel could embrace - his cock stirred as they kissed - and then he used the Force to grab his phone off the charger, the phone flying into his hand. He speed-dialed Margrét, even though Margrét worked nights at the bar and was even grumpier in the mornings than he was if disturbed, she had wanted to be notified the moment Coldagnir returned.  
  
Margrét just made a noise when she answered her phone.  
  
"Margrét. Guess who's back."  
  
Margrét exhaled sharply and then she let out a scream. Sören couldn't help the grin on his face as he heard Frankie in the background: "Oi! Wot's that yellin' for, I'm trying to fucking sleep!"  
  
"He's back," Margrét told her.  
  
Frankie let out an even louder scream. Sören had to hold the phone away from his ear, chuckling. Coldagnir smiled too.  
  
Then Margrét said, "All right. All right... we packed bags and had them ready just for this. Let me dump some coffee on my head and get to the airport, Frankie and I will be there in two hours."  
  
Sören almost said _I'll drive you_ and remembered with a sharp pang that he couldn't drive anymore - at least not for the foreseeable future - because of panic. Before he could open his mouth to ask, Maglor said, "I'll pick them up at the airport."  
  
" _TAKK_ , ALEJANDRO," Margrét shouted, hearing that, careful to use the alias on the phone.  
  
"YOU'RE NOT A TOTAL SHITE," Frankie added.  
  
Sören facepalmed, and yelled, "I thought you forgave him for leaving me -"  
  
"Yeah, I just like to bust his arse," Frankie yelled back.  
  
"We'll see you soon," Margrét said, and ended the call.  
  
As they waited for Margrét and Frankie to fly up from Reykjavik, Dooku made coffee and tea. Coldagnir sat between Sören and Edenel, both of them holding him. The next two hours passed in silence, just letting Coldagnir be.  
  
When Margrét called to let them know she was at the airport, Maglor took off in the jeep. The sun was already about to set - Akureyri got less than four hours of sunlight at this time of year. Maglor had left Huan at home, and the dog had to do his business; Sören and Dooku looked at each other, and Sören got up before Dooku did. Coldagnir followed Sören outside, and for a few minutes they continued the silence.  
  
Finally Sören said, looking at the gold streaking the deepening blues in the sky, "Edenel told us..."  
  
Coldagnir nodded. "I know."  
  
"I don't have words for how sorry I am."  
  
"There are no words, Fëanor." Their eyes met. "I loved them. But I love all of you as well, and I came back to the ones I love."  
  
"Why didn't you come back sooner?"  
  
"I wanted to give you all some time to process what Edenel told you. It's been hard enough for me to sit with the fallout of everything... I didn't want to come back and watch you all fall apart. That would have been even harder on me."  
  
Sören swallowed hard. "We're still kind of not OK, Kol."  
  
"I thought as much. But you're probably doing at least a little better than you were doing a week ago, or two weeks ago, when the news was still fresh."  
  
Sören gave him another hug. Coldagnir was so _warm_ , despite the chill of winter in the air. Sören was used to his own body throwing off a lot of heat, which he now understood was probably one of his Flame Imperishable "superpowers", as he called it tongue-in-cheek, but there was that and there was this; Coldagnir felt like he was running a fever.  
  
Sören raised an eyebrow. He decided to poke this subject gently, while they had a moment alone. "Edenel told me your name is Coldagnir." His lips quirked. "I rather figured it wasn't Kolgrímur Sólmundursson and that you weren't from the Faroe Islands, but it was still interesting to have it confirmed you're not really human, being that you've never gotten into the subject of what you are."  
  
"No, I haven't."  
  
"And we've known each other for awhile now." Sören folded his arms. "I assume that if you were 'just an Elf', like one of my descendants, you would have said something before now, but you didn't, and now in hindsight that seems telling."  
  
"You're not wrong," Coldagnir said, nodding again. "I was going to make an announcement when Margrét and Frankie get here. Well... not immediately. But sometime later this evening. I've been holding back this long because it's rather non-trivial, but it has not been my intent to mislead you or be dishonest with you."  
  
"Fair enough." Sören scooped up Huan's mess, put it in a baggie, and in the trash bin out front. He gestured, and they went back inside.  
  
"I heard you have the Silmarils," Coldagnir said once they stepped into the living room.  
  
Sören made a "wait here" gesture. He ran down the hall to where the tiara was kept in the studio room. He carried it as he came back to the living room - walking this time, not running - and, with all eyes on him, he used the Force to lift the tiara out of his hands and put it on his head. The room lit up like a lamp had been turned on, tiny rainbows spangling over the walls. Edenel's jaw dropped and his breath hitched; Coldagnir smiled as bright as the sun.  
  
"You're beautiful," Coldagnir said.  
  
"Yes," Dooku said with a small smile, love in his eyes. "Yes you are."  
  
Maglor's keys were in the door then, and as the door opened a crack, Maglor called out "Looo-seee, I'm ho-ome" in an imitation of Ricky Ricardo, then he gasped, and so did Frankie and Margrét as they walked inside. Maglor quickly closed the door behind him. Huan bounded over to him, tail wagging, yipping happily, and then he ran over to Sören with his tail wagging, tongue lolling, as if he were grinning at Sören with approval. He barked once, and lay down as if to prostrate himself.  
  
"My god," Margrét whispered, her voice hushed with awe. She came around to the front of her brother, her grey eyes wide. "It's the Silmarils."  
  
Frankie walked over next to Margrét and looked Sören up and down. "Well now," Frankie said with a smirk. "Ain't you a right proper fancy lad now."  
  
Sören couldn't help laughing. Margrét elbowed Frankie with an eyeroll - though her eyes were laughing, her lips in a faint trying-not-to-grin smile - and she said, "Mary Frances O'Riordan, Írimë Lalwen Finwiel, that is our brother Fëanor. The King. Not a 'right proper fancy lad'."  
  
"Right," Frankie said. "My mistake. A real posh cunt."  
  
Sören gigglesnorted, tearing up, and Coldagnir's laughter boomed out. He walked over to Margrét and Frankie and put an arm around each of them. "I've missed you," Coldagnir said, tousling Frankie's hair, giving Margrét a kiss. Then Margrét picked up Frankie so the five-foot-tall Frankie could kiss the seven-foot-tall Coldagnir.  
  
"All right," Sören said, taking the tiara off his head. "The gang's all here, let me put this away and not steal the show away from Kol." He went back to the studio room, and came back empty-handed. Frankie sat on Coldagnir's lap and Margrét sat next to him and the three of them cuddled, which made Sören smile. He in turn sat on Maglor's lap, and Maglor began to massage Sören's scalp; the cats came out, and Snúdur climbed onto Sören's lap. Sören began to stroke and skritch the cat, and the sound of Snúdur's purr relaxed him, continuing to melt into Maglor's touch. With his family gathered around him - or most of it - things almost felt normal again.  
  
Almost. Sören braced himself, remembering his talk with Coldagnir outside, feeling like another bomb was about to drop.  
  
But not yet. Dooku cleared his throat and looked at the clock. "Is anybody hungry? I could make something -"  
  
"Why don't we go out to dinner somewhere to celebrate?" Sören asked. He quickly added, "Not that everything is, you know, fine and happy..." He winced, thinking of what was lost. "But Edenel and Kol have come back to us, and that is worth celebrating, at least."  
  
"I agree," Maglor said, putting his arms around Sören. "We've been grieving, but we need to take some time to remember what we _do_ have."  
  
Dooku had been the one to deliver the news to Margrét, via Force telepathy, who had in turn told Frankie. They took the news a bit less hard than those who had counterparts in the Prime universe but nonetheless it shook them too, since their kin was kin to them everywhere. Margrét nodded solemnly. "Wherever you guys want to go, is fine with me," Margrét said.  
  
They just had the one jeep, and seven adults, but the buses were running, and it wasn't that far of a walk into downtown Akureyri. They took a walk together as sunset faded to twilight, and after browsing a few possibilities and some small discussion, they decided on a bar and grill, and managed to get a large table in back to accommodate all of them.  
  
Over drinks and good food - Sören had a steak, medium rare, with smoked salmon, a baked potato, and a mixture of turnips and greens - things continued to feel like almost-normal-again as Coldagnir asked what everyone had been up to while he was away. Sören spoke honestly about having to close down the studio, but without getting too maudlin about it, trying to sound optimistic that he would re-open in January once he'd "had some time", even as he still was feeling like the studio was probably done for good. Margrét related colorful tales of her bar patrons and shows she'd played recently with her darkwave band Brjálaður Tíkur. Frankie was an aspiring fashion designer, and showed some of her most recent sketches; she also made chainmail jewelry and accessories for sale and had photos to show of that as well.  
  
With that, Sören felt a pang. He didn't want to be jealous of Frankie - he was in fact proud of her that she was finally pursuing these creative interests - but it was a sharp reminder of how creatively blocked he was right now. Just like Sören feared the studio was done for good, Sören wondered if he was ever going to be able to make art again. If that had died with one universe's iteration of the Flame Imperishable.  
  
He tried to push that thought away and keep up the appearance of good cheer, wanting to celebrate Coldagnir's return, which felt like it was re-aligning them to start moving forward at least a little, instead of staying stuck in the holding pattern of numb grief. Coldagnir seemed to make everything a little warmer and brighter just by being there.  
  
Enough so that Sören had to take off the flannel shirt that he was wearing over a T-shirt in the restaurant, giving Coldagnir the side-eye the entire time, who gave him a cryptic little Mona Lisa smile in return. Margrét noticed but said nothing, just sipped her sparkling water, and Sören realized she knew something - maybe not all of it, but she'd known something for awhile.  
  
Sören poked her with the Force.  
  
 _He's our partner,_ Margrét spoke into his mind. _There's only so much you can keep from someone you're intimate with, for so long._  
  
 _I guess so._ Sören looked over at Maglor and remembered the first time he'd ever seen Maglor's ears, back in 2009, when they were showering together. Maglor had said "I was born like this" but didn't elaborate, and Sören had assumed - incorrectly - it was a birth defect, a type of mutation... but one he'd found beautiful, the pointed ears somehow made "Alejandro" even more deliciously attractive to him. In hindsight, over ten years later, Sören felt gullible as hell for not suspecting his partner might be anything but human, especially when he came from a land where a large number of the population - educated, thinking people - still believed in Elves.  
  
On the walk back from the restaurant, under the pitch black sky, it began to snow. There were already snowbanks along the sidewalks. Frankie paused, stooped down, and scooped up a handful of snow. Then she packed it into a ball and threw it at Sören.  
  
Sören got her back with a bigger snowball, which attracted Margrét's attention, and now Margrét and Frankie each threw snowballs at Sören. Maglor came to Sören's defense, and the four ended up in an all-out snowball war, with Dooku, Edenel and Coldagnir watching from the sidelines in amusement until Sören threw a snowball at Dooku for just standing there and not helping. That led Dooku to join Margrét and Frankie's side. Coldagnir joined Sören and Maglor's side to balance out the numbers, and Sören gasped when he watched a snowball hit Coldagnir in the chest and start melting right away. Sören quickly looked around to make sure there weren't passerby who could have seen that.  
  
"We better get home," Sören said, "and then we can contine this in the yard."  
  
That was what they did, though every now and again Frankie and Sören stopped to build a snowball and throw it at each other. In the backyard Sören, Frankie, Margrét and Coldagnir continued the snowball war, while Dooku made hot chocolate in the kitchen and Maglor and Edenel watched. In the privacy of the backyard, they used the Force to assist in the fight, and when Dooku came out to let them know the hot chocolate was ready he was just in time to watch Sören be pelted with a dozen snowballs at once, at which point he Force threw Frankie and Margrét into a snowbank and returned fire. Frankie threw Sören on top of her, grabbed him and kissed him hard. Sören groaned into the kiss, kissing her back hungrily - and dropped another snowball onto her head as they kissed.  
  
"Cunt," Frankie said, and a snowball hit Sören's ass.  
  
They came in for hot chocolate. Dooku looked at Sören and he could tell Dooku had thought about lighting a fire in the fireplace to make things feel cozy, but he was having second thoughts about it because the living room was already so warm, warmer than the thermostat was set to.  
  
Coldagnir looked down into his mug, waiting; Frankie and Margrét gave him an expectant look and Dooku raised an eyebrow, as if he knew without being told that Coldagnir had some sort of announcement to make. At last Coldagnir took a deep breath, looked around the room, and said, "I have a bit of a confession to make, and I ask that before any of you react, you hear me out all the way through."  
  
Maglor folded his arms, already looking suspicious. Dooku put down his mug of hot chocolate and steepled his hands in his lap, eyes wary.  
  
 _Oh god. You guys calm down,_ Sören spoke to both of them in the Force.  
  
 _I_ am _calm._ Maglor squared his jaw. _When someone says they have a "confession", well... that doesn't often bode well._  
  
 _And you'd know, Alejandro._ Sören sipped his hot chocolate.  
  
 _That. Was. Different._ Maglor shot him a look.  
  
 _Was it?_ Sören shot him a look back and sipped more hot chocolate.  
  
Coldagnir watched the tension bristling between Maglor and Sören, and waited for it to pass before he spoke again. "All right." Coldagnir exhaled sharply. "My real name is not Kolgrímur Sólmundursson, which you probably already realized. It is Coldagnir -"  
  
Maglor's eyes widened. " _Valarauco._ "  
  
Coldagnir's eyes met Maglor's. "...Yes."  
  
"Wait." Frankie held up a hand. "Valawhatnow? You're not one of those filthy Valar fuckers, are ya? 'Cos we know you're a sun god..."  
  
" _What._ " Dooku's eyes narrowed.  
  
"This is why I asked that you all wait to hear me out before you react," Coldagnir said with a frown. "What I am... who I am... is complicated -"  
  
"What's a Valarauco?" Sören blurted out, even though he knew that now he too was reacting and speaking over Coldagnir. "Frankie asked if you were a Vala -"  
  
"Not a Vala," Maglor cut in, bitterly. "A Balrog."  
  
Sören froze. In his mind's eye he saw, _felt_ Fëanor's death so long ago, going up in flames - he'd been having nightmares about burning to death since he was four. He could see the pack of Balrogs, feel the whip wrapped around him, restraining him, burning into his skin...  
  
"I was a Balrog," Coldagnir said. "And before that... I was Aelios, the sun god. I am still a sun god, which is why you've doubtless felt the warmth radiating from me, noticed how it affects the temperature in a room -"  
  
"He told us about the sun god thing last winter," Margrét said quietly. "We'd started to wonder why it was always so warm at home, without us putting on the heat. We got to see him... discharge all of that solar energy, a few times, which was magnificent to behold." Then she glared at Coldagnir, her grey eyes like ice. "But you never told us you were a Balrog."  
  
"No," Coldagnir said. "I waited this long because... well... I know it's a sensitive subject."  
  
"That's putting it mildly," Sören said. He turned to Maglor and asked, "How come when he said his name right away, you knew..."  
  
"When we were flying out to Reykjavik from Anchorage," Maglor said, "Vanimórë and I had a conversation. He mentioned that one of his associates was named Coldagnir... Nemrúshkeraz... Aelios. A sun god, who had become a Balrog to fight against Melkor, but Melkor's darkness was too great for him to withstand and he... fell."  
  
"Yes." Coldagnir nodded solemnly. "What Vanimórë told you was true. This wonderful world was bathed in my light. Melkor threatened it. Eru concealed me, but he did it too well and Melkor's influence proved corrupting."  
  
"So how corrupting are we talking about here?" Dooku spoke up. "How I myself react will depend a lot upon your answer."  
  
"That is the confession I have to make," Coldagnir said.  
  
"So wait... the confession isn't that you were a Balrog, once upon a time?" Sören felt sick; he had a feeling of what was about to come.  
  
"That's only part of it, Sören." Coldagnir closed his eyes and winced then as if in pain, and when he opened them, his bronze eyes were full of tears. "During that time when I was not myself, I was one of the Balrogs responsible for Fëanor's death. I held the whip -"  
  
Maglor was about to get up; Dooku held out his arm, and motioned with his other hand for Maglor to stay seated, glaring at him. But then Dooku glared at Coldagnir, and if looks could kill... Sören shuddered.  
  
"Forgive me, Sören." Coldagnir looked at Maglor and Dooku. "Forgive me. Please. As I said, I was not myself. I had been changed... I had gone into the arrangement to fight Melkor, and ended up enslaved to him -"  
  
"That was another universe," Dooku said, but the coolness in his voice - too calm for the escalating tension in the room - and the watchful gaze told Sören that Dooku was in barrister mode now; though he had not practiced law in almost three years it was still deeply ingrained in him.  
  
 _Oh **shit** ,_ Sören thought to himself, waiting for it, like this was Dooku's courtroom now.  
  
Dooku went on, "What of this one? You come from the same universe as the Vanimórë we know, yes? What happened to the Coldagnir of this world, where is he, do you know?"  
  
"I do know." Coldagnir nodded.  
  
Dooku waited, cold, emotionless... dangerous.  
  
Coldagnir looked around the room and he said, "The Coldagnir of this world is dead. You, Maglor, watched your father die." His gaze held Maglor's again. "You killed a Balrog, then. That version of me was the Balrog you killed."  
  
For a few tense seconds the room was quiet enough to hear a pin drop; Sören's head spun as his stomach continued to sink, chills down his spine, a prickle at the back of his neck like a warning.  
  
Finally Maglor gritted out, "Then it will be double pleasure to kill you again."  
  
Dooku did nothing to restrain Maglor this time as Maglor got up, eyes like silver flames, using the Force to deliver his sword right into his hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The conversation between Maglor and Vanimórë that is referred to (that involves Coldagnir among other subjects) happens in Spiced_Wine's story [_Interlude_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18304610).


	19. The Sun In Winter

**The Sun In Winter**

  
  
  
As Maglor charged towards Coldagnir with the sword, Margrét leapt up from the couch and got in his path, standing in front of Coldagnir, shielding him.  
  
Maglor slowed and came to a stop, facing Margrét.  
  
"Aunt Findis," Maglor growled. "Step aside. I don't want to hurt you, but he must pay for his crimes -"  
  
"I don't want to hurt _you_ , either," Margrét said, lifting her chin in defiance. "Go back over there and sit down." Her deep, smoky voice now had a frosty edge to it, her Icelandic accent stronger with emotion. "Now."  
  
They stared at each other, neither of them willing to back down. Sören felt himself tensing even more, heart pounding, ready to spring. Just before he could get up and try to drag Maglor back to his seat, Maglor shoved Margrét aside and took a swing.  
  
Before his sword could connect with Coldagnir's throat, Maglor flew up two feet in the air and began to choke. Margrét raised her fist, a fierce look on her face, and when she waved her other hand, Maglor's sword flew out of his hands and into hers. Once his sword was in her hands Margrét unclenched her fist and Maglor dropped to the floor, hard, gasping to catch his breath.  
  
Margrét's eyes met Sören's. Sören swallowed hard, feeling a rush of mixed emotions, all conflicting each other. Anger at Coldagnir for having killed Fëanor - both the one in the Prime universe, who had later been resurrected, and the one here, who had not, who had been reborn as Sören, even as Sören understood Coldagnir felt remorse and was on their side now, trying to help them. Anger at Maglor for attempting to attack a guest in their home, even as Sören understood Maglor was responding out of his own trauma; anger at Dooku for knowing what was about to happen and not restraining him, even as Sören understood that Dooku, too, was traumatized by Fëanor's death and he could only respond a certain way. Anger at Margrét for Force choking Maglor, even as Sören understood that Margrét did what she had to do to keep Maglor from killing Coldagnir in their living room, which nobody needed to deal with right now.  
  
"Now then," Margrét said, continuing to hold Maglor's sword. "Are you going to sit and calm down, or -"  
  
Maglor got up, and for a brief instant Sören thought Maglor might indeed sit and calm down. But then he charged for Coldagnir, eyes wild, baring his teeth, and snarled, "Just as well, because killing you with my bare hands will be more satisfying -"  
  
Again Maglor went flying, and started to choke again. Margrét loomed over him, quiet rage on her face - her grey eyes turned orange, like fire. "Don't make me do this, Macalaurë."  
  
"Margrét," Dooku said, raising a hand. "Enough." Dooku sighed. "Macalaurë, tonight is not the time for this."  
  
Maglor gave Dooku a desperate, pleading look, as he continued to choke. Dooku gave a firm shake of his hand and crossed his arms. _No._  
  
Maglor looked back at Margrét. "Do I have your word that you will not kill him tonight?" Margrét asked, still choking him.  
  
Maglor nodded, choking even harder, his body convulsing.  
  
Margrét let go. Maglor wheezed and heaved, making inhuman noises as air flooded back into his lungs.  
  
Margrét used the Force to hand the sword over to Sören. Sören got up and put Maglor's sword in the hall closet rather than on the sword rack, and then he used the Force to bring over Dooku's sword and his own. He closed the hall closet door and sat back down.  
  
Margrét still stood, her arms folded now. Her eyes returned to their usual grey. When Maglor's breathing was almost normal again, Dooku helped him get up - Maglor was shaking - and Dooku led Maglor to sit back down next to him. He put an arm around Maglor and kissed his brow.  
  
"Right," Margrét said, and headed back towards the couch.  
  
Before she could sit down, Coldagnir rose to give her a hug. "Thank you," he husked.  
  
Margrét backhanded him, hard. " _Don't._ "  
  
Coldagnir held his cheek, but otherwise registered no emotion. Before Coldagnir could respond, Dooku stood up and told him, "I think it's best you leave." When Coldagnir hesitated, Dooku used the Force to open the front door and he bellowed, " _You._ **Out.** _**NOW.**_ "  
  
Sören heard himself blurt out, "Uh, Nico, he doesn't have a car -"  
  
"That's not my problem, and he can call a bloody taxi." Dooku used the Force to give Coldagnir a shove forward. "Go on. _Get out._ " All of the emotion he'd been holding back showed on his face now, brow furrowed, dark eyes murderous.  
  
Coldagnir took a deep breath, looked back at Margrét and Frankie, and Margrét and Frankie looked at each other, nodded, and Margrét said, "We'll be outside to talk to you in a moment."  
  
Dooku used the Force to collect the empty mugs of hot chocolate and stormed off to the kitchen, grumbling. Sören heard the familiar sounds of Dooku making tea, and when Margrét and Frankie bundled up to go outside, Sören followed Dooku into the kitchen, leaving Maglor and Edenel alone in the living room.  
  
"What a fucking mess," Sören said as he came in the kitchen.  
  
Dooku leaned against the counter and pinched the bridge of his nose with a deep sigh. "I honestly thought for a moment there, we would have some sort of carnage disaster that we'd have to call Charlie to come clean up."  
  
"No shit." Sören folded his arms. "You weren't exactly helpful in preventing that. When Maglor first went for him -"  
  
"OK, _look._ " Now Dooku's face was murderous again, and now his ire was directed at Sören. Despite himself, Sören felt a frisson down his spine and his cock stirred - Dooku was even sexier to him when he had that look on his face. "Even if I had restrained him that first time, do you think that I could have successfully done so more than a few seconds? I can't blame Macalaurë for his reaction - I rather feel like killing _that_ myself -"  
  
"Could we maybe not with calling him 'that' or 'it'?" Sören pursed his lips. "That's dehumanizing - not that he's human, but you get what I mean - and that's gross even with what he did, and it's also close to misgendering, and I think you know how I feel about that, especially with my sister present."  
  
"You know, you're awfully defensive of him considering _he killed you._ "  
  
"I know." Sören nodded. "And I'm... I'm not excusing it. I'm not happy about it either. But for fuck's sake, nobody is helping anything here right now."  
  
"Fine." Dooku took a few deep breaths. "I rather feel like killing _him_ myself," Dooku hissed. "But I also did not expect actual death to happen tonight, that there would be an intervention one way or the other. I just didn't know that it would come _so close_ to someone being killed. If she hadn't let go when she did -"  
  
" _Yeah._ " Sören sighed. He looked back in the living room. Maglor was sitting with his arms folded, looking down, scowling, and Edenel was watching Coldagnir talk to Frankie and Margrét. Sören could hear the rise and fall of their voices outside - he couldn't quite make out what was being said, but he could also hear them crying. Sören felt sick again.  
  
When tea was ready, Dooku brought the tea service out to the living room. Margrét and Frankie came inside as Dooku was fixing everyone's tea, and wordlessly they took their outerwear and boots off, and went back over to the couch.  
  
"Well?" Dooku raised an eyebrow.  
  
Margrét and Frankie looked at each other, and then Frankie said, "Coldagnir is going to be checking into the Hotel Akureyri for a bit."  
  
"I see," Dooku said.  
  
"And the two of us are going back to Reykjavik tomorrow," Margrét said.  
  
"Are you guys..." Sören didn't want to say it, the sick feeling intensifying, but he said it anyway. "Breaking up?"  
  
Margrét and Frankie looked at each other again. Margrét took her tea from Dooku with a mumbled " _takk_ " and leaned back against the couch. "Not exactly," Margrét said.  
  
"We're re-evaluating," Frankie said.  
  
Margrét nodded. "I can't..." She looked down with a sigh, then looked up with an eyeroll, sipped her tea, and closed her eyes. She looked back at Frankie again, then out at Dooku, Maglor, Sören and Edenel. She exhaled sharply. "We still love him. But he killed you - " Her eyes met her brother's. "In at least two universes. He's dead in one of them, but it's. You know."  
  
"I know," Sören said.  
  
"So, right now we need to sit with the information we've just received," Margrét said, "and we need to think about where we're going from here. It's not a decision we can make lightly or immediately. We need time. At least a couple of weeks to think things over. I know you lot are furious with him." Her eyes locked with Maglor's. "I can't blame you for that. I'm not happy with knowing what he did, either. But..."  
  
"Up until this point, everything was fine," Frankie said. "Better than fine. We considered ourselves married, even though it wasn't legal."  
  
"And that's not the sort of thing you can just cancel right away like that. I _know_ you'd beg to differ," Margrét shot at Maglor as she heard him start to protest. "But you don't get to make our decisions for us, Macalaurë. Nobody does, but us. We have to decide whether or not our love for him, and the good things he's done for us, outweighs what he did a long time ago when he was under Melkor's influence."  
  
"I do not envy you that decision," Dooku said.  
  
"No. To be honest, I feel like getting really, really, really piss drunk right about now, but that would accomplish nothing except giving me a hangover in the morning, and those are shite to fly on," Margrét said.  
  
"So you really are going back tomorrow?" Sören pouted.  
  
Margrét nodded. "I'm afraid so. If we stay in Akureyri an extra day or two we'll be tempted to go to the hotel and try to force things back together prematurely. The only way we can fairly make this decision is with a bit of distance. And time. Like I said, it'll probably be at least a couple weeks before we've reached a verdict. He'll be waiting at the hotel while we decide."  
  
"So he'll be in town," Maglor said, "and not that far."  
  
Margrét gave him a sharp look. "Macalaurë, I am going to say this to you exactly once, so consider it a warning. _Do not_ kill or attempt to kill our husband while Frankie and I are down in Reykjavik trying to figure things out. That's taking my choice away from me and I won't appreciate it, and you won't want to deal with me when that choice is taken away. And _that_ will negatively impact Sören, one way or another. So I _implore_ you, leave him alone. Let him be."  
  
"She's right," Sören said.  
  
Maglor glared at Sören. "He killed you. How can you defend -"  
  
" _I'm not,_ " Sören said. "What I _am_ defending is my connection with my sister. If you kill Coldagnir, and she kills you, that makes a mess of things and we've already got a fucking mess of things."  
  
"You expect me to just sit here and not avenge my father's death?" Maglor scowled.  
  
"Your father is sitting right here," Sören said, "and I'm not asking you, _I'm telling you,_ we have been through _enough_. I am _tired_. I want a fucking _break_ for awhile."  
  
"Not to be a dick or overstep my bounds or nothin'," Frankie spoke up, "but Maglor, you might want to consider that since Fëanor was the one who was killed, and Sören is Fëanor reborn, maybe instead of you being all like RAWR ME BE MANLY MAN ME SMASH BALROG ME AVENGE ADAR RAWR hopped up on whatever Elves got for testosterone, you should let Sören make the call of whether he wants to be avenged - if he might want to do it himself, even - or if he would pardon him, or make Coldagnir owe him some kind of debt, or... I dunno, something."  
  
Maglor glared at Frankie. Frankie glared back. "I ain't scared of you," Frankie told him.  
  
Sören couldn't help snorting at that. _No, she certainly is not,_ Sören spoke into Maglor's mind, remembering the way she attacked Justin Roberts with a steel chair, then dragged him down a flight of stairs when he had a foot on her, and proceeded to stomp on him with her steel-toe Doc Martens. That was one of the things he loved about her.  
  
"As much as it pains me to say it," Dooku said, "she's right." Dooku saw Maglor open his mouth to protest and he shook his head. "I am not happy with this information either. Fingolfin _loved_ Fëanor, and as you know, the loss of Fëanor led to Fingolfin's own death, facing Morgoth in single combat, when he - I - had nothing left to lose, when the light of my life was gone. But Fëanor is the one who should make that call about Coldagnir's ultimate fate. Not you, or I, but the one Coldagnir killed. It doesn't seem fair otherwise."  
  
"And we know that might take some time too," Frankie said.  
  
"But if you decide he needs to die for what happened," Margrét said, looking Sören in the eye, "for fuck's sake let's get through the holidays first. For Dag's sake. For everyone's sake."  
  
"All right." Sören breathed a heavy sigh. He didn't like being the arbiter of Coldagnir's fate here, but he also didn't like the thought of Maglor killing him. He still didn't know what to make of his feelings surrounding the issue - there was anger with Coldagnir for what had been done, what had been _lost_ , but he also couldn't help feeling sadness at what Coldagnir had been through under Morgoth's control, which he could only imagine. And he felt bad for Frankie and his sister, who still loved him. And felt just as bad for Maglor and Dooku, who were still angry about what had happened to Fëanor, and still reeling from the Dagorath, and having Coldagnir show up and reveal this information was rather like adding insult to injury, even though the truth had to come out somehow someday.  
  
"Let's get through _tonight_ ," Dooku said, looking very tired and very done. "For everyone's sake."  
  
Sören looked at the clock. It wasn't terribly late, but it felt like later with how dark the winter nights were in Iceland. "Are you two going to stay the night in the guest room, then? I'm guessing you don't want to go to the hotel if he's there -"  
  
"Yeah, we were planning on taking the guest room if that's OK," Frankie said.  
  
"It is," Dooku said. "You're still family, conflicts or not."  
  
"I'm going to go to the hotel," Edenel said.  
  
He had been silent through this entire thing - more like an observer, and Sören realized that when all hell was breaking loose in the living room he'd deliberately masked his presence in the Force and kept out of it, neither choosing one side or the other. Going to Coldagnir in the hotel now almost felt like a choice - Edenel and Coldagnir were lovers too, so Sören wasn't entirely surprised by this, though he was surprised Edenel hadn't intervened when Maglor tried to attack Coldagnir if that was the case.  
  
"Are you... coming back?" Sören asked.  
  
"Most likely." Their eyes met. "I need to go to him, now, after everything... but I'll be back to visit you in a few days."  
  
"So you're playing both sides?" Maglor scowled.  
  
"There is only one side and we're all on it," Edenel said. "But I'm not going to argue about it now. I'll take a few days and let things calm down some before I return."  
  
Sören felt a sharp pang - he'd gotten used to having Edenel around, and having him leave even for a few days filled him with separation anxiety, when they were still all so devastated by the Dagorath. Nonetheless, Sören couldn't stand in the way of his relationship with Coldagnir, nor did he want to hear Maglor sniping at Edenel for that relationship.  
  
Edenel called a taxi, since Coldagnir had already left, and after he got up, took his suitcase of belongings that he'd been keeping at the house since before the Dagorath, and bundled up, Sören and Dooku walked him out and gave him hugs and kisses.  
  
"I'm sorry," Sören said.  
  
"You have nothing to apologize for," Edenel said, and kissed Sören's brow. He turned to Dooku then with a look that said _You, on the other hand..._  
  
"You cannot and _will not_ blame me for being angry about Fëanor's death," Dooku said with a furrow of his brow, narrowing his eyes, squaring his shoulders. "You _shan't._ "  
  
"No. And I was angry with him too, a long time ago." Edenel put a hand on Dooku's shoulder. "But we are in a war of _worlds_ , plural. Our enemies would want to divide and conquer. Think about that as you reflect in the days ahead. I will not tell you what decision to make, only that if you intend to burn a bridge, you must be very, very sure that it is worth it."  
  
"When are you coming back?" Sören asked, feeling anxious again about Edenel's departure.  
  
"Friday," Edenel said. "The sixth."  
  
Sören and Edenel kissed again, then Edenel skritched Dooku's beard. "Try to have a peaceful remainder of the evening," Edenel said as Sören and Dooku went inside.  
  
"You too, Father," Dooku said.  
  
Edenel gave a sad, tight smile.  
  
  
_  
  
  
That night Sören, Maglor and Dooku did not make love. It wasn't so much for fear of disturbing their guests across the hall, as it was that not long after Maglor climbed into bed, he began to cry. Silently, but Sören still felt him trembling, heard the ragged breath, and at last opened his eyes and saw the damp tracks on Maglor's face in the glow of the nightlight.  
  
Sören had Dooku get out of bed, and they re-positioned so Maglor was in the middle rather than Sören. Sören and Dooku held Maglor between them, rocking and petting him. Sören and Dooku looked at each other over Maglor's shoulder and Sören knew Dooku was feeling it too - Maglor was having flashbacks of Fëanor's death at the pack of Balrogs, how Fëanor had died in his arms, and Maglor had killed the Balrog who held the whip that restrained Fëanor... this world's version of Coldagnir. Maglor was angry that he was not allowed to lash out at the one from the Prime universe, who had also been in the same position of restraining Fëanor to his death, the burning whip adding to the mortal wounds.  
  
"We know," Sören soothed, stroking Maglor's hair. "We know it hurts."  
  
Maglor clenched his teeth. "Do you?" he seethed. He balled up his fists. " _I am so angry right now._ With _everyone._ Everything. I'm angry at you, Sören for not condemning this Coldagnir to a death sentence immediately. And you, Nicolae, for not helping me _kill him_ , when you grieved for Fëanor as much as I did if not more. And Margrét and Frankie for not abandoning him outright. How they could even want to entertain the possibility of staying with him after they learned -"  
  
"Because Margrét has at least a couple years history with him," Sören said, "and emotions don't work like a faucet or a light switch, where you can turn them on or off when they're no longer convenient. They still love him, in spite of what he did. And what he did was a very long time ago -"  
  
" _It still feels like recently enough,_ " Maglor snarled, "where I am concerned."  
  
Sören went on. "And he claims he wasn't himself when the thing was done. That he had gone in good faith to try to fight Morgoth which had to be done from the inside, and... well... corruption corrupts absolutely."  
  
"He still did it."  
  
"He still did it," Sören said.  
  
"You have suffered _so much_ in your lifespan as a mortal. All kinds of abuse. Ill-health, when you were asthmatic. None of that would have happened if -"  
  
"Perhaps," Sören said. "On the other hand, you yourself were captured and tortured by Morgoth and Sauron. Being an Elf isn't necessarily a guarantee that one will live a life free of abuse and -"  
  
"No," Maglor said. "But it seems so much worse for humans, somehow. You all are more..." He searched for the right word. "Fragile. Vulnerable."  
  
Sören patted him. "My life has been hell at times, and I won't deny that something very precious and beautiful was lost when each of us died, something we haven't quite re-gained as humans. But I don't hate being human, really." Sören thought of the conversation he had with Fëanor in the Timeless Halls days before the Dagorath, and now tears came to Sören's own heart, a sharp ache at the memory of the magnificent ascended Fëanor, gone forever. "Fëanor had some opinions on the subject. He was... philosophical about it. But I don't want to get into it now." He knew it might have the potential to make Maglor even more upset than he already was. "And look, Maglor, if it hadn't been Coldagnir that killed me, it could have been something else."  
  
"He's right about that," Dooku said. "Fëanor had rather a talent for making enemies, and getting himself in trouble."  
  
"Hell, Fingolfin could have killed me," Sören snickered.  
  
"With sex, maybe." Dooku's lips quirked. "Stabbing you with my other sword..."  
  
"Usually I'm the one to be a pervert, you," Sören said with a mock stern look, but he was tickled by it, and reached with the Force to pinch Dooku's bum. Dooku used the Force to swat Sören's ass.  
  
Maglor sighed.  
  
"I'm not defending him," Sören said, feeling the surge of Maglor's annoyance. "And for what it's worth, I understand why you feel this way. I want to kill Odin for what he did to my parents. Not even a want to - _I am going to_ kill Odin for what he did to my parents, someday. I don't fault you for being angry."  
  
"But you yourself are not angry."  
  
"I actually _am_ angry. I'm just shielding it so I don't pour gasoline on the fire where my anger feeds everyone else's, and I'm not giving in to the firestorm of rage and lashing out because we don't really need that right now with everything else gone on, and I'm not sure what I'm going to do about Coldagnir. It's not just me who's being affected by this, or you. I need to weigh the information before I decide one way or the other that he needs to die or he should be pardoned."  
  
"For once Fëanor isn't being impulsive?" Dooku's eyebrows went up. "The shock."  
  
Sören snorted. "I may be a slow learner," he said, "but I do learn. And just about this, anyway. Like I said, more people than me are being affected by this. If it didn't involve my sister and my girlfriend I might be a bit less cautious."  
  
Maglor sighed again, and Sören's arms tightened around him. "Please don't be so angry with me," Sören said, giving him a kiss. "Or if you must, well... take it out on my ass."  
  
Maglor rolled his eyes, but he gave a small smile despite himself, and then he started to shake again - this time with laughter instead of tears. "You're incorrigible."  
  
Sören kissed him again. "I love you."  
  
"I love you too." Maglor patted Sören's shoulder and returned the kiss.  
  
"And I'm sorry this is so hard for you. I know that being asked to hold back on avenging me is one of the hardest things you've ever had to do in your life. But it _will_ make an already bad situation go from bad to worse - not even 'has the potential to', it _will_. The impulse to avenge me is from that sense of family loyalty, and you _must_ keep it in check for that same family loyalty, until I tell you otherwise. Please."  
  
"It's why I don't kill him myself," Dooku said. "It won't undo what's been done, and we will have a whole new mess to clean up with Sören's family."  
  
Maglor said nothing, but leaned on Sören's shoulder. Sören kissed his brow, and Dooku kissed the top of Maglor's head.  
  
"Get some sleep," Sören said.  
  
Maglor's lips quirked. "Usually I say that to you."  
  
"For once I'm being the parent." Sören pushed the Force into his touch as he began to massage Maglor's scalp, and within a few minutes Maglor's eyes were closed and his breathing slowed, and Sören could feel him asleep. Then Sören reached out to take Dooku's hand, and Dooku squeezed his hand and they followed together into sleep.  
  
  
_  
  
  
The next day, Wednesday November fourth, Sören woke up early before the rest of the house did, having nightmares of burning to death, which had been plaguing him semi-regularly since he was four years old. This time it felt more vivid, and Sören woke in a cold sweat, and was rattled by the haunted look on his face as he splashed cold water on himself in the bathroom to try to ground out from the terror, shaking, in gooseflesh.  
  
He needed a distraction - there was no way in hell he could go back to bed when he was like this. He made coffee and turned on the TV at a low volume, where he finally learned of the US election news he'd missed yesterday in the chaos surrounding Coldagnir's visit. Trump had been elected for a second term, despite being impeached.  
  
Sören facepalmed. _Well, we're all fucked now._  
  
He watched news footage of prominent American politicians as well as everyday Americans thanking God that Trump had been re-elected. "Humans need some better gods," Sören heard himself say aloud.  
  
He realized then he wasn't alone in the living room - Frankie was there now, looking delicious in a light purple lace camisole and silky dark purple boxer shorts, her red pixie cut messy from sleep. Sören tried to not stare at her tits.  
  
Sören got up to get some coffee for Frankie and she joined him on the couch to watch the news with him. "Oi, what a mess," Frankie said, shaking her head. "Brexit was bad enough, yanno?"  
  
Dooku had been talking about Brexit for most of the year, having held the position of Remain.  
  
"Climate change is going to keep getting worse with this clown in charge of the States," Sören said, gesturing to Trump on the screen. He thought of the funeral held in Iceland in 2019 for the extinct Okjokull glacier, a casualty of climate change, and the other ways climate change had been impacting his country, even when Iceland had been doing much to protect the environment and keep emissions low, it scarcely mattered when big countries were doing damage unchecked. Then Sören had a disturbing thought, the sick feeling from last night revisited all over again but now for a different reason. "Oh god, I wonder if part of why climate change is a problem here is because this world's Coldagnir is dead. I mean, humans have definitely done a lot, but..."  
  
"Oh god." Frankie buried her face in her hands.  
  
Sören swallowed hard. He hadn't want to upset her. He put an arm around her and pulled her onto his shoulder.  
  
On that note, the news went from talk of Trump to reporting more weird weather and earthquakes, which seemed to have increased at an alarming rate since the beginning of October. Sören and Frankie looked at each other. _The Dagorath,_ shot across their Force bond at the same time.  
  
The news then focused on the uptick in violent crime around the world, especially in small, sleepy "it can't happen here" towns. One story was of a homicide in Florida that happened just over a week ago where eight men stabbed a man in his early twenties to death, saying that they'd seen the man "move things without touching them" and they were afraid of him - even though the man was reported by those who knew him as quiet, kept to himself, kind and helpful when he saw people in need; the mob of eight thought they were performing a "community service" and an "exorcism, driving the devil out of our town".  
  
Sören and Frankie looked at each other again. Sören blinked back tears. Frankie took his hand, used the Force to grab the remote, and turned the TV off.  
  
For a few minutes they just held each other. Sören knew logically that they were probably safe, for now, as they were discrete about Force use, only doing so in the privacy of home, around family. And they had "the Department that Doesn't Exist" of MI6 looking out for them - Charlie had some disparaging commentary for how the States handled "psychics" and non-humans, and Maglor's time in captivity in the 1970s in the US was living proof of that; meanwhile the Brits remembered that "psychics" helped win the war against Hitler in the 1940s, and did what they could to protect them. But Sören still felt a sense of unease anyway, enough that when he and Frankie let go he was shaking again.  
  
"Sören." Frankie smoothed Sören's curls, and kissed his cheek. "We're gonna be OK."  
  
"Are we?" Sören frowned. "Nothing has been OK for almost a month now. The Dagorath happened over in another universe, and here it feels like the end of the fucking world is beginning."  
  
Frankie took Sören's chin in her hand. "Well, if that's the case, we better not waste any time." With that, she grabbed his face in her hands and kissed him hard. Sören moaned as their lips parted and tongues met, swirling, teasing, playing together.  
  
After a few deep, passionate kisses in each other's arms, Sören lay down on the couch and Frankie lay on top of him, kissing harder, hungrier. Sören's hands traced the curves of Frankie's body as she rubbed against him, Sören groaning at the rubbing against his hard cock tenting his pajama bottoms, Frankie breathing harder as she teased herself. When Frankie began to kiss and lick Sören's neck he let out a little cry and Frankie put a finger to his lips, laughing softly. "Shhhhh," she whispered. "People are still tryin' to sleep, you cunt."  
  
Sören swatted Frankie's ass, and Frankie bit his neck, covering Sören's mouth with her hand as he cried out again. Then they kissed some more, and after more hot, fierce kisses they couldn't take it anymore. Frankie rose up to pull off her camisole, and then got off the couch to take off her boxers as Sören shucked his pajama bottoms, freeing his hard cock. Before Frankie's boxers went on the floor, Sören moaned at the wet spot, and he licked his lips at the scent of her arousal, stronger now that no barrier was in the way. Frankie helped Sören take off his T-shirt and then she climbed back on top of him, and now her wet pussy was rubbing against his cock, making both of them moan before they shared another kiss.  
  
They kissed and kissed, and then Frankie started kissing Sören's neck again, her fingers in his mouth to muffle his moans and cries, knowing how sensitive he was. Sören gasped and shuddered as Frankie licked his neck, her tongue trailing to the sweet spot where the neck and shoulder met. He shuddered again, cock jolting as she nibbled that erogenous place, sucked on it.  
  
Then she kissed lower, to Sören's chest, to work on his nipples. Sören's breath hitched and he moaned around the fingers in his mouth as Frankie lapped and suckled, the fingers of her free hand rubbing one in circles as her mouth teased the other. Their eyes met as Frankie tugged on a nipple ring with her teeth, before lashing the nipple harder, faster, suckling hard, shaking her head back and forth as she sucked. "Fuck, yeah," she panted as she pulled back to look at Sören's nipple swollen, glistening, and lashed her tongue some more, making Sören arch to her, rubbing against her more insistently. Frankie pressed harder against him, moaning with her lips around the other nipple as her clit made contact with his frenulum.  
  
Frankie went back and forth between Sören's nipples and at last Sören rasped, "Your turn, _elskan._ " With a wicked grin Frankie leaned up and her full breasts were in Sören's face. Sören suckled one pierced nipple and Frankie pet his curls, breathing harder, letting out a sigh as he sucked. Then she moaned as his tongue lapped, moaning again as his tongue traced circles around the aerole before rubbing on her nipple again. Sören's cock got harder as he feasted on Frankie's breasts, and he could feel her juices dripping onto his cock, the hard nub of her clit grinding on him. "God, I want you," Sören whispered as he kissed between her breasts, over her heart, taking a moment to cup her breasts, tease her nipples with his thumbs, rubbing then pinching, pulling, before he drew a nipple into his mouth again.  
  
When Frankie had her fill she claimed Sören's mouth, and then she guided her breasts to his chest and they watched as their swollen, hard, slick nipples rubbed together. "Oh, _god,_ " Sören breathed, cock twinging. It was all he could do to not take her right then.  
  
"Mmmmmmm," Frankie moaned, cupping one of her breasts and working her nipple against Sören's, rubbing it hard and fast, fucking it. Sören cried out and Frankie laughed and covered his mouth with her free hand. Then she leaned in to steal a kiss before doing the same with her other breast.  
  
"You are driving me out of my fucking mind," Sören growled.  
  
Frankie grinned. "Good. Give you something better to think about, right?"  
  
They kissed again, and then they licked their tongues together and Sören groaned, dying to taste her. Frankie clearly wanted that too - a moment later she rose, and scooted up the length of Sören's body to sit on his shoulders. Sören rubbed his nose in her red bush, savoring the scent of her before he took his first lick.  
  
She was so wet, and Sören sipped at the sweet musk of her, making filthy, obscene slurping noises as he kissed her pussy lips. Frankie moaned and grabbed his head, and she began tugging on his curls as his tongue brushed around her clit, teasing and teasing before his tongue at last slid over the hard little button, going slow. When she started riding his face, fucking herself on his tongue, that was his cue to lick faster, his tongue fucking her clit harder and harder, and then as she got closer he sucked on it. She rode his face again, trying to hold back her cries, panting and whimpering, her body trembling. Sören groaned at her juices dripping, her thighs shaking, and started slurping again as he sucked, drinking her. Frankie lost control a minute later, throwing back her head and letting out a shuddery gasp. Sören felt her jolt in his mouth and he pulled back to watch her beautiful flower contracting, gushing cream, her mound quivering.  
  
He needed more, and so did she. He ate her and ate her, starting with that slow, feather-light teasing around then on her clit, then rubbing harder, at last furiously, viciously devouring her, sucking her nub to shivering, pulsing climax. She came another three times from his tongue before she said, "Break time," catching her breath. Sören's cock was almost painfully hard, his balls tense and aching, wanting to explode.  
  
Frankie slid down, and Sören thought she'd slide all the way down to his hips to straddle his cock, and instead she paused over his chest. Sören watched as she pulled her clitoral hood back, exposing the luscious, glistening jewel, and he gasped as she sank down and pressed her clit to his hard, pebbled nipple. She began to rub, teasing his nipple as she pleasured herself. The sensation of her clit rubbing his nipple was almost too much to bear, and the sight of her clit on his nipple drove him wild. " _Fuck_ , that's fucking _hot,_ " Sören gasped, and Frankie gave a throaty "mmmmmmm" in response.  
  
When she got closer, she rubbed harder, and the sight of her clit fucking his nipple, her juices slicking his nipple, making streamers, was enough to almost bring Sören off. He ran his hands over her, played with her own nipples, and after a few minutes Frankie came, squirting onto his nipple then an arc shot over Sören's face. He licked his lips, tasting her juices again, his cock throbbing desperately.  
  
Frankie took a moment to recover, breathing hard, gasping, and then she leaned in to kiss him, tasting herself on his lips, and moved her head down to lick her juices from his nipple. Sören panted and writhed underneath her, begging, "oh god, Frankie, please."  
  
She relented and slid further down and Sören guided the tip of his cock to her. They both moaned as she sank down, and when he was all the way in, Frankie's hands rested on his heart.  
  
"I love you," she said, looking into his eyes.  
  
"I love you, _elskan._ " Sören reached up to stroke her face, feeling an ache at just how much he loved her - how long he'd loved her and not fully realized it, not letting himself potentially face rejection. They definitely had a lot of lost time to make up for, both now and eons ago, when Fëanor and Lalwen had been lovers, not able to resist that Finwion fire in each other.  
  
Frankie rode him hard, and despite their efforts to keep the noise down with their moaning, the wet suctioning sound of Sören's cock gliding in and out of her, the slap of his balls against her, was impossible to keep down. They panted together, not able to help little moans as their eyes met and they could see the passion in each other's eyes. Their hands roamed over each other's bodies, Sören worshiping her lush, thick curves, the softness of her. "So beautiful," Sören whispered. His fingers dipped to the flower of her pussy, began to rub the clit the way she liked it. "So fucking sexy."  
  
As Sören's fingers worked her clit Frankie rode him harder, bucking wildly, and at last she grabbed his shoulders, nails digging in him and she rasped, "oh god oh god oh god right there _rightthererighttheredon'tyoufuckingstop_." Sören braced himself, his own pleasure starting to surge at the delicious thought of her orgasm. And when she climaxed, pulsing around him, Sören came too, not able to help the cry as he spent into her, finally feeling deep, blissful relief.  
  
They snuggled together, giggling through the euphoria of their orgasm. After they lay there for awhile and Sören felt himself dozing off, he was woken up by fabric hitting him in the face. He blinked open and saw Frankie had used the Force to throw her boxers at him. She got up now to put her camisole back on.  
  
"I gotta go wake up Margrét so we can fly back to Reykjavik."  
  
Sören pouted. "So you really can't stay -"  
  
"She has a bar to run and we. Yanno. Need to think about the thing with Coldagnir at a distance." Frankie put her boxers on.  
  
"OK."  
  
As Frankie woke up Margrét, Dooku and Maglor finally made it out of bed. After coffee, Dooku was the one to bring them to the airport, with Sören going along for the ride.  
  
When they came back the rest of the day passed in a blur - the depression settled back over Sören, in a blanket heap. He, Maglor and Dooku called it an early night - he could tell Maglor and Dooku were feeling the same sort of emotional hangover from last night.  
  
On Thursday, November fifth, Sören once again watched the news, with Maglor and Dooku in the room. There was a press conference with Trump where he was taking questions from select members of the audience, one of whom now asked, "Mr. President, surely you have heard by now the reports of there being a small number of people in our country and other parts of the world, exhibiting abilities such as telekinesis. Even a minute fraction of the population is enough to create a huge threat to public safety, possibly even national security, enough to cause an international incident with our enemies. What do you plan on doing about this?"  
  
"We'll look into it," was all Trump said.  
  
Sören's jaw dropped. He looked at Maglor, then Dooku. Dooku turned off the TV and scowled into his tea.  
  
"Well," Maglor said, "before we panic too much, there's still a consensus that everyone reporting witnessing this sort of thing is a crackpot."  
  
"It's still ominous," Dooku said. "I had fears decades ago that there would eventually be an organized witch hunt against people like us."  
  
"'Look into it' isn't necessarily a witch hunt," Sören said, desperately wanting to believe that they'd still be safe at least a little while longer.  
  
"It doesn't mean nothing will be done, either," Dooku said. "Especially when the religious right helped get that man elected, and the people who by and large seem to be having the most extreme reactions - the ones leading mobs to beat and kill Force sensitives - are religious people."  
  
"Fuck," Sören said.  
  
"Fuck, indeed." Dooku used the Force to pour himself some more tea.  
  
"Well..." Maglor looked at the clock. "We've had enough stress lately. May I propose that we go somewhere and do something for awhile? Just... not think about things?"  
  
They ended up driving to a hilly area, climbing up the hill with a sled and an inner tube, and as Dooku watched, Sören and Maglor went down on the sled, then once they came up Sören shoved Dooku onto the sled with him as Maglor watched, and then Dooku and Maglor went down on the sled as Sören went down in the inner tube, laughing and screaming all the way.  
  
After a few more trips it was starting to get dark. They decided to have dinner out - a treat to themselves and a way to further decompress from everything - going to Serrano, a Mexican restaurant and an old favorite of theirs. Sören had a large chicken burrito with rice and beans, and felt reasonably content on the drive back home.  
  
At home the three of them cuddled together in the hot tub, drinking wine. The change of pace had definitely done them some good and now there was an air of playful sensuality, the three taking turns kissing each other, hands roaming and exploring in the tub. When they got out, they made their way to the bed, and Maglor got out the vanilla-flavored massage oil they kept in the bedtable. Dooku and Sören worked on Maglor together, rubbing the back of him then the front of him, kneading the tension out of his body. Then, once Maglor was thoroughly coated in the oil, glistening, Sören and Dooku proceeded to lick him all over, until Maglor was writhing, gasping, begging for release. Sören took Maglor's cock into his mouth, sucking slowly, as Dooku licked Maglor's balls, lapped slowly inside him, making Maglor even crazier. Then they switched, with Dooku sucking Maglor as Sören's tongue played inside him, rubbing the sweet spot, Sören not able to keep from stroking himself to the sound of Maglor's cries. They teased him and teased him, keeping him on that edge just short of orgasm, as long as they could. But at last, when they switched again, Maglor came in Sören's mouth, and Maglor shot off another arc of cum as Sören kissed Dooku, sharing Maglor's seed in the kiss.  
  
It was Dooku's turn next. Sören and Maglor rubbed him down back and front - Maglor's cock hardened up again as his hands played over Dooku's body, gliding over the sculpted, toned muscles, fingers rubbing the silver fur. They licked him all over, making Dooku pant and moan, and then Sören sucked him while Maglor's tongue fucked inside him. When Maglor sucked him and Sören's tongue lashed away in the channel, Dooku lost control, coming with a hoarse shout. Maglor kissed Sören and the taste of their lover brought Sören dangerously close to his own climax.  
  
Sören was last for the massage. He was so pent up from making love to their bodies that he came just from Dooku and Maglor's hands rubbing from his spine down to his ass and back up. They still continued to work him over, Sören hardening again as they did the front of him, and when they began to lick him together Sören made inhuman noises, cock aching to come again. Dooku sucked as Maglor tongue-fucked him, and Sören rocked his hips, fucking himself on their mouths, cries getting louder and louder until he exploded in Dooku's mouth, so much that his seed spilled from the corners, and watching Maglor lick Dooku clean after they shared the seed in a kiss set Sören off again, coming hard.  
  
They still weren't done. Sören and Dooku held Maglor between them, Dooku holding Maglor from behind, arms around him as one of Maglor's legs draped over Sören's hips. Sören and Dooku took him together, and the feel of Dooku's cock rubbing against his cock in the slick heat of Maglor was so luscious that Sören fought to hold back his orgasm, even as much as he'd come already. Sören rocked Maglor, kissed him, stroked his hair, looked lovingly into those molten silver eyes. "Ada's here," Sören whispered between kisses, knowing how much Maglor needed the assurance right now. "Ada's here. Uncle's here. We've got you. We're not going anywhere. Our love for each other was stronger than everything they threw at us, we're together again."  
  
Maglor clung to Sören, shuddering, kissing him fiercely, hungrily. "Ada," he moaned. "Ada... Uncle... yes... _yes_ , yes..."  
  
"That's a good boy," Dooku whispered, kissing Maglor's neck. "Our brave, beautiful boy."  
  
Maglor came hard, and Sören and Dooku came seconds later, the three taking each other's hands as they climaxed. It was that climax that shattered them, slaking their thirst for now. They tangled up together, safe and warm, everything all right for at least a little while.  
  
  
_  
  
  
Edenel came back to the house the evening of the sixth, just as Sören and Maglor were returning from walking Huan.  
  
Dinner was awkward and quiet - Sören could tell Maglor was trying very hard to not be resentful of his great-uncle for having Coldagnir as a lover, but he also couldn't quite hide his displeasure, and after dinner Maglor excused himself to the studio room, where Sören, Dooku and Edenel heard the strains of acoustic guitar as they relaxed in the living room with tea.  
  
"How is he?" Sören asked finally.  
  
Edenel raised an eyebrow. "He is holding up. A bit nervous, but he's been preparing for this moment in time for awhile now so none of this is completely unexpected for him."  
  
"Including the possibility that he might die," Dooku said.  
  
"Including that possibility, yes. But part of why I returned is to ask that before you entertain that possibility, you might want to talk to him yourself."  
  
"I have heard everything I need to hear," Dooku said coldly. "As you know, he killed Fëanor. In his world, and the Coldagnir of this world killed this one. It's not something I can forgive or forget easily."  
  
"Yes, but as _you_ know, you agreed with Frankie that the fair thing to do is to let the final decision be Fëanor's." Edenel gave Sören a pointed look.  
  
"I thought you weren't going to tell us what to do," Sören said.  
  
"I'm not, as far as the decision itself goes. I can only implore you to talk to him further before you make that decision."  
  
Edenel slept in the guest room that night - not because he was asked to do so, but because, as he explained to them, he wanted to give them some time before sex happened between them again, to not be seen as unduly influencing the decision with Coldagnir.  
  
The next day, in the last light of afternoon, it was Edenel who took the jeep to drive Sören to the Hotel Akureyri. They lingered in the parking lot.  
  
"You're not coming in with me?" Sören asked.  
  
"No. Again, I don't want to be seen as potentially interfering with the decision-making process, so it's best if I stay out of it. Call me when you're ready to be picked up, though."  
  
Sören gave him a kiss - despite their resolve to refrain from sex until things calmed down some more, their blood stirred and they couldn't help kissing deep and hungry, kissing again and again until Edenel pulled back, breathing hard, giving Sören a stern look that was nonetheless full of lust, making Sören fight the urge to drag his uncle into the back seat and ride him. "Go see him," Edenel rasped.  
  
Sören went to the lobby and Coldagnir's room was called by the concierge. Coldagnir came down and after he and Sören stood there, taking a long look at each other, Coldagnir gestured for Sören to follow and they walked to his room in silence.  
  
Sören took a seat in an armchair. Coldagnir went to the mini-bar. "May I get you anything?"  
  
Sören thought, and he decided he needed a stronger drink to get through this. "Brennivín if you've got it."  
  
He did. Coldagnir gave Sören a fond smile as he poured a shot of Brennivín, and Sören used the Force to take the shot glass from him before Coldagnir sat on the couch across from him.  
  
"Edenel tells me that I should talk to you before I make any kind of decision either way," Sören said, "so here I am."  
  
Coldagnir nodded. He leaned back. "I have not wanted to lie to you, Sören, or anyone in your family. But I couldn't just tell the truth of what I'd been, what I'd done, right away, not simply because of how you might all react, but because I was sent here to help you. As angry as you must be - and you have a right to be - I'd like you to remember that I've been there for you and your sister the last couple of years, and I can't keep helping you if I'm dead. There are things I can do - heal, ward and shield, see more deeply into people, places, and things... light things on fire, cause explosions... I can even grant immortality with my own blood. These are all abilities you may need in the coming days, weeks, months, years. And more than that, I care very much about all of you. It's not simply a question of trying to make things right by helping you, but... you and your family are a light in this world, in these dark times. I was willing to go to great lengths to fight Morgoth long ago. I am no longer under his spell, but the memories remain. You all give me joy that I would not have thought possible ages ago. And you all are a reminder of why I wanted to help the world my light shines upon. You all have deep magic that the world needs - to keep fighting the darkness, growing stronger by the day. Because you, and your family, grow stronger by the day."  
  
Sören blinked back tears, not wanting to give in right away. He closed his eyes and thought of the nightmare he had the other morning... the nightmares that had been recurring for three decades, burning to death, reliving the horror. Now he had the full memories, awakened after he'd looked into Gandalf's _palantir_ at his sister's wedding in 2019. When he opened his eyes, his gaze held Coldagnir's bronze eyes. "That present darkness maybe would have not gained such a foothold if more of the Quendi had survived. If I myself, the Flame Imperishable, had not perished at your hands and the other Balrogs."  
  
"No. And you don't know how sorry I am..." Coldagnir closed his eyes and let out a shuddery sigh. When he opened them he gave Sören a look of pure sorrow and regret that went straight to his heart. "If I could undo it, I would. I was not myself, and I hope that you will understand that. Just as you seem to have understood that Maglor was not himself when he raped a woman and sired Tindómion."  
  
"Maglor didn't kill me," Sören gritted out, not wanting to think about that part of Maglor's past, as long ago as it was.  
  
"When he left you, you could have died," Coldagnir said. "You thought about suicide more than once. You ended up going to Justin Roberts who could have killed you - who did kill you, elsewhere." Coldagnir winced - Sören could feel that thought was painful for him. "Look. I am not saying the two situations are exactly alike. But I am asking that you consider the similarities between the situations and that I am offering to redeem myself."  
  
He had some points - it seemed ethically inconsistent for Sören to pardon Maglor, and not pardon Coldagnir. And yet. _And yet._ Even more than remembering his death at the hands of Balrogs that bothered Sören, it was what he'd _seen into_ the Balrogs, what he'd _felt_ from them as they fell on him. The touch of Morgoth - Morgoth's energy, essence, presence - made Sören feel sick. It was a wonder that Edenel had been able to resist the Dark, a wonder that Van would not serve Sauron. Sören could feel none of that corrupting influence on Coldagnir, none of the taint that would warp Elves into Orcs or otherwise make everything around him sicken and die. Coldagnir burned with the Living Force itself. But Sören still felt a chill down his spine, knowing what he once had been.  
  
"How can we ever trust you again?" Sören asked. "I don't mean that you concealed this from us for a couple of years - I get why you did. But I mean..." Sören rubbed his beard, searched for the right words. "Having been what you were. And knowing what Morgoth is. What Sauron is. How good they are at lying. Spying. How can I have any confidence that you're _actually_ on our side and not just playing us for the long con? How do I know that you are free of the corruption, when you were so deeply enmeshed for so long?"  
  
There was a long pause. Coldagnir looked pensive, considering. Sören finished his shot of Brennivín and used the Force to pour himself another. This time he poured a shot for Coldagnir as well.  
  
At last Coldagnir said, "Even at my worst, lowest point, when I had been so thoroughly turned to the Dark that I hated, despised, envied the Elves - there was a part of me that still could not help but love and admire them. Enough that when Fingolfin fell..." And at this, the tears came. He picked up the shot glass of Brennivín and lifted it in Fingolfin's honor; Sören did the same. "I took a crystal that had come apart from his shield. Silver-blue. Smooth. And I kept it. I lost it in the War of Wrath, unfortunately - but for the time I had it, I treasured it. To a small part of me, that was untouched... it was a reminder of something good and beautiful in the world." With that, Coldagnir drank.  
  
And so did Sören, tears spilling down his cheeks. When he finished the shot and looked over at Coldagnir, he was crying too. Through the window, snow was falling outside, fast and furious.  
  
That was not the answer Sören was expecting, and it felt like something in him broke. Once again, his mind replayed the last moments of his brother's life, Dooku's memories of Fingolfin that had been shared across their bond. Magnificent until the very end, dying as he had lived - with passion, courage, conviction. Sören started to weep, and Coldagnir shook with silent tears.  
  
To save that crystal, that piece of Fingolfin... that piece of the Blood of Fire, of _Light_... Sören buried his face in his hands.  
  
A few minutes later, Sören managed to pull himself together. He used the Force to retrieve the cell phone from his pocket, and speed-dialed Edenel's number. "I'm ready to be picked up," he said simply, before ending the call.  
  
"You're leaving now?" Coldagnir asked.  
  
Sören nodded.  
  
"Have you decided..."  
  
Sören cut him off before he could finish the sentence. "I need to think. A lot."  
  
"May I walk you outside?"  
  
Sören shook his head as he put his coat back on. "I need some space alone."  
  
As he waited for Edenel, Sören stood out in the cold November night, snow falling, his breath steaming the air. The tears came on again, and he let out a howl like a wounded wolf.


	20. At Your Service

**At Your Service**

  
  
Apart from some household chores and going grocery shopping with Dooku, Sören spent Sunday in his usual blanket heap, not really motivated to do much. Dooku and Edenel played chess, and Maglor read. But even as it outwardly looked like Sören was just laying about, not doing anything, the gears in his head were spinning furiously.  
  
After seeing Coldagnir at the hotel on Saturday night, Sören had a lot to think about. He was still reeling from the revelation that one of the people he'd come to care about so much was responsible for his death as Fëanor, and he was still angry about it - more for the sake of Fingolfin and Maglor, who had been left behind and grieved the most, than for himself, though he was angry for his own sake as well. And yet, he could not shake the mental image of Coldagnir taking one of the crystals from Fingolfin's shield after he fell, keeping it safe and treasuring it until it was lost in the War of Wrath. Even above and beyond the love Coldagnir had shown Margrét and Frankie, the kindness and warmth that Coldagnir had shown him - the passion they had shared - and the fact that Sören still cared for Coldagnir, even above and beyond the deep regret he could feel in Coldagnir for what he had done during his time as a Balrog, a soul-deep, searing grief... it was that anecdote of the crystal as a keepsake that spoke to Sören, cooled the anger, softened the harsh blow of knowing what Coldagnir had been, what he had done.  
  
Sören went to bed early on Sunday night, and got up early on Monday morning - too early for his liking, but he felt too restless to go back to bed. After showering, getting dressed, and having coffee, Sören took Huan outside to do his business, and as he stood in the blue twilight, breath fogging in the air, Sören thought of the blue of Fingolfin's eyes, the silver-blue of the crystal from his shield. He knew what he had to do.  
  
Sören wrote a note letting Maglor, Dooku and Edenel know where he'd gone, and he called a cab. On the ride to the Hotel Akureyri, Sören felt nervous, and tried to take slow, deep breaths to compose himself. But he was once again a bundle of nerves when the cab let him off, enough that he could barely explain his business to the concierge.  
  
Coldagnir came down. He and Sören had breakfast in the hotel's restaurant, not saying much, though Coldagnir kept glancing at him expectantly, waiting. After they ate they went back to Coldagnir's room and Coldagnir made them coffee. When Coldagnir brought it to him, Sören put his hand on Coldagnir's hand and said, "I forgive you."  
  
Coldagnir exhaled sharply. He was going to sit across from Sören in the armchair - Sören had the couch this time - but Sören patted the seat next to him, and when Coldagnir sat, Sören pulled the former Balrog against him and held him close for a few minutes. Sören could feel the relief flooding through Coldagnir, tinged by once again feeling sorrow and regret for what he'd done so long ago, and Sören ached for him.  
  
Their eyes met. "Thank you," Coldagnir said.  
  
"Don't thank me yet." Sören's lips quirked.  
  
Coldagnir waited.  
  
"OK." Sören took a deep breath. He took a moment to gather his thoughts. "The Fëanor we lost in the Dagorath - the ascended one, who had been resurrected... he knew who and what you were, já?"  
  
Coldagnir nodded. "He did."  
  
"He forgave you?"  
  
"He did."  
  
Sören pursed his lips. "I remember you telling us you swore fealty to him - which is why you went to fight for the Elves in the Dagorath."  
  
Coldagnir nodded again. "Yes. I swore an oath of fealty to Fëanor. But not out of fear. Out of love."  
  
Sören could feel that love, even now, and tears burned his eyes. He stroked Coldagnir's cheek. "Will you swear fealty to me now? As the reborn Fëanor? If you do - if you promise to never turn against me, to continue helping us as you have been, even unto battle, even at great cost to yourself, your life now mine to pay for having ended my life, and the way it traumatized my brothers and my sons - I will let your past as a Balrog lie dead, forgotten. It will only matter to me what you are doing now, at our side."  
  
Coldagnir did not hesitate. "Yes."  
  
The moment hung between them, eyes locked, feeling the gravity of it all, and then Coldagnir produced a dagger. He got down on his knees before Sören, and Sören watched as Coldagnir sliced a cut on his own right index finger and then he took Sören's hand and bled into Sören's palm; the blood burned. "I swear to you, Sören-Fëanor. From this day, until the end of time, my life is yours. I serve you in loyalty, and love."  
  
When Coldagnir withdrew his finger, Sören licked the blood from his palm - it felt intuitively like the right thing to do - and without thinking about it, he took Coldagnir's cut finger and put it in his mouth. The heat in Coldagnir's eyes as he watched Sören suck his finger went straight to Sören's cock, and Sören found himself remembering when he and Coldagnir had finally made love, before the Dagorath.  
  
Coldagnir rose from his knees and before he could stand up Sören pulled Coldagnir against him and drew him into a deep, passionate kiss. As odd as it seemed to go there with someone who had admitted to killing him, Sören's caring for him won out - Sören's desire for him won out. The only way to move on was to move on. And now they were moving, into the bedroom portion of Coldagnir's suite. Undressing each other, kissing as each article of clothing fell to the floor.  
  
They climbed onto the bed together and for a moment they just held each other, looking into each other's eyes. Sören got lost in the beautiful burnished bronze of Coldagnir's eyes, like fall leaves. He twined a lock of the long, dark red hair around his finger, and Coldagnir reached to pet Sören's curls.  
  
"So you're a sun god, huh?" Sören asked.  
  
Coldagnir nodded. "That I am."  
  
Sören desperately needed a moment of levity after everything they'd all been through. He looked down at Coldagnir's hard cock, ready for him, and back up. "Does that mean you're gonna give me... Sunny D?"  
  
Coldagnir's eyes widened and then he facepalmed and he shook with silent laughter.  
  
"I'm so sorry," Sören said. He really wasn't.  
  
Coldagnir gave him a playful shove. When he took his hands away from his face his eyes were teared up, but his eyes laughed with him. "You're terrible. That's bad, even for you."  
  
Sören grinned back at him. "I know." He kissed the tip of Coldagnir's nose.  
  
"I missed you," Coldagnir said.  
  
"I missed you too. When you guys were gone with the Dagorath I was worried sick." Sören swallowed hard, remembering. "And that's what it comes down to. You and Edenel are a part of the family now. You have a place in my heart. You've earned that place." He took Coldagnir's hand and put it on his heart. "And when you told me you kept a piece of Fingolfin's shield... that touched me. That wrecked me so much." Sören's voice broke, his jaw trembling.  
  
"It hurt to lose that crystal," Coldagnir said. "Everything it represented..." He stroked Sören's face, kissed his brow. "But now... I have a piece of your heart, which is Fingolfin's living shield. And I will cherish it, always."  
  
Sören grabbed Coldagnir and kissed him. Coldagnir kissed him back, and as their tongues played together, teasing, Sören groaned at the feel of their hard cocks pressed against each other, cock rubbing cock in the slow, languid rhythm of their kiss.  
  
Coldagnir rolled onto his back. Sören climbed on top of him. Coldagnir opened a drawer on the table next to the bed and Sören used the Force to grab and pull out a small bottle of oil. As they kissed, cocks rubbing, Sören prepared Coldagnir with slick fingers - one, then two, then three. Sören kissed and licked Coldagnir's neck, then down to his nipples, smiling as Coldagnir gasped, shivered, clutched Sören's head as he feasted.  
  
"You're beautiful," Sören whispered.  
  
"You're beautiful." Coldagnir took Sören's chin in his hand. "Your smile lights up an entire room. Your laughter lights up the entire world."  
  
"I'm about to light up your insides," Sören boasted, and he and Coldagnir laughed together at how cheesy and awful that was. Then Coldagnir stopped laughing as Sören slid down and began to lick Coldagnir's long, thick, hard cock, with slow, deliberate strokes around and around the head of the cock, then down the shaft and back up. Up and down, tongue rubbing slowly, Sören smiling as Coldagnir moaned. Sören's fingers continued to play inside him, and Sören's own cock twinged at how hot and tight he was, the thought of being inside him, pleasing them both...  
  
Sören took Coldagnir's cock into his mouth to tease further, sucking slowly, eyes watching the sun god and drinking in his reactions, the look of lust and ecstasy on his face, the moans and sighs he made as Sören's mouth worked its magic. At last Coldagnir tugged Sören's curls and husked, "Please, Fëanáro."  
  
Sören came up, poured oil over his own cock - Coldagnir's eyes riveted as Sören stroked himself - and then he guided the tip to Coldagnir's channel. They kissed as Sören began to push inside, and Sören gasped as he felt Coldagnir pushing out at him to take him in. At last Sören was buried to the hilt, and Sören took his hands, kissing him deeply.  
  
Coldagnir's arms wrapped around him as Sören fucked slowly, sweetly, lost in the look of adoration in Coldagnir's eyes, adoring him in turn. They kissed and their tongues danced together between kisses; Sören's hands slid over the warm body of the sun god, delighting in the way Coldagnir trembled to his touch. Coldagnir's moans got louder as the ring in Sören's cock rubbed against that place inside him, and Sören's cock throbbed, wanting to drive into that delicious silken heat, but he made himself hold back, wanting to make this good for Coldagnir, comfort after the horror of the Dagorath, the chaos of his revelation.  
  
He could only hold back so long - Coldagnir's hips rolled, urging him on harder, faster. Soon one of Coldagnir's legs was hooked on Sören's shoulder and he drove into the sun god with abandon, thrilling to the sound of his broken cries as the ring in the head of his cock stroked inside him just right. They ran their hands over each other, Sören savoring the warmth in Coldagnir's touch and the way his palms and fingers tingled, seemed to pulse with the Living Force itself. Sören enjoyed the feel of Coldagnir's body, the beauty of him. They worked up a sweat together, glistening, and the scent of their sweat and arousal was intoxicating to Sören, slamming into him all the harder, making deep, feral growls as he took what was his... took care of what was his.  
  
"Mine," Sören rasped.  
  
Coldagnir cried out, shuddering. "Yes, Fëanáro, _yes_..."  
  
"Mine." Sören gave a hungry growl. "My beauty, my light, my fire..."  
  
"Sören." Their eyes met, and Coldagnir gasped for breath. "So close..."  
  
Sören reached for Coldagnir's cock, slick with precum and looking delicious, and stroked it in time with his thrusts. A moment later Coldagnir's eyes fluttered and he gave a fierce roar as he erupted over Sören's body, searing hot seed that almost hurt as it exploded over him, but just added to the pleasure building in Sören, who emptied into him a few seconds thereafter with a shout of his own.  
  
Sören collapsed onto Coldagnir's chest. Coldagnir's arms were around him again, holding him tight, rocking him. Sören laughed and sobbed wtth the intensity of his release, and Coldagnir kissed his tears, then Sören snuggled against his heart, listening to the strong beat of it. Coldagnir felt even warmer now, like he was running a high fever or they were inside a sauna. Sören continued to sweat.  
  
That did not stop him from wanting more, and Coldagnir responding to his need. Sören slipped out of him and Coldagnir oiled his cock; Sören sank down slowly, Coldagnir's hands caressing him again, watching carefully as he slipped into Sören inch by inch. When they were fully joined they gasped for breath at the intensity of it, burning, fitting together so sweetly.  
  
Sören rode him, and soon Sören was bucking madly on top of him, working his hips and ass for all he was worth. Coldagnir grabbed Sören's hips, thrusting into him wild and needy, and their cries competed with the slap of their flesh, the wet suctioning of Coldagnir's cock rocking in and out of the oil-slick, sweat-slick passage, the bed slamming against the wall. When Coldagnir reached to cup Sören's ass, hands kneading, Sören screamed and braced himself, balls tightening, cock throbbing urgently. A couple of minutes later Sören was done, painting the sun god with his seed, his long moan of pleasure joining Coldagnir's as Coldagnir came deep inside him, white-hot, Sören feeling like his very soul was branded with Coldagnir's love.  
  
They kissed, and Sören played with the glorious fiery hair as he sank down into Coldagnir's waiting arms.  
  
"Thank you," Coldagnir husked, looking into Sören's eyes.  
  
"Thank _you._ " Sören laughed and cried again. "That was..." He let out a low whistle.  
  
Sören curled up against him. The warmth and coziness of Coldagnir's body, like a living blanket, made Sören doze off. At some point Coldagnir woke him up to make him drink water, since Sören had worked up quite s sweat and the room was too warm from the both of them. Then Sören went back to sleep in Coldagnir's arms - marveling as he dozed off again that he felt safe enough to sleep - and some time later he woke up feeling feverish, the heat now too hot for either of them. In the dim light of the room, Sören noticed Coldagnir was glowing golden, even more brightly than Maglor glowed unglamoured.  
  
"Are you OK?" Sören asked.  
  
"It seems that making love with the Flame Imperishable has made me radiate even more strongly than usual," Coldagnir said, "and I am overdue for dispensing this energy."  
  
"Dis... pensing."  
  
"Yes." Coldagnir nodded. "Every now and again, I have enough buildup that it has to discharge back to the sun." He smiled at Sören. "If you like, you can come with me to watch."  
  
They dressed. Coldagnir was renting a vehicle which was parked in the hotel parking lot. As soon as they got on the road, the jeep's windows began steaming, hot enough inside that Sören had to roll down a window to let in the winter air.  
  
It was now afternoon, and at the time of day when the sun began to set in Akureyri at this time of year. They drove out to a more remote part of the Eyjafjörður, where they would be reasonably safe from onlookers. Sören and Coldagnir got out of the jeep together and Sören looked out at the sea, and the way the golden light of the beginning sunset seemed to glow that much more strongly with Coldagnir being outside in its presence.  
  
"Wait here," Coldagnir said, and Sören stood back as Coldagnir began walking towards the edge of the shore. Sören watched as sparks began to fly off Coldagnir's body. The temperature seemed to go up, getting warmer, enough that Sören had to unbutton his coat.  
  
Then suddenly, Coldagnir sprouted triple wings, and then he was pure flame, like a triple-winged version of the phoenix Sören had inked on his skin. Sören's breath hitched as he watched the firebird soaring just as streaks of orange and red broke through in the deep blue dusk, spreading and intensifying, like fire swallowing the sky. Coldagnir shot up and up and up, and Sören heard a sonic boom like that of an airplane overhead.  
  
He waited, watching the sky. The sunset continued to burn, and then fade, the blue breaking through again, darkening to indigo. When all was twilight, Sören saw a shooting star...  
  
...and then it was Coldagnir, flying, falling, landing on his feet like a cat beside Sören.  
  
Sören clapped excitedly, like a big kid. "Bravo!" he cheered. "That was some performance."  
  
Coldagnir took a dramatic bow. "I should get you home," Coldagnir said.  
  
They got back in the jeep and Sören let out a little sigh as he watched Akureyri speed by in the window.  
  
"Are you all right, my dear?" Coldagnir asked.  
  
"Mostly," Sören said. He turned back to Coldagnir and told him his honest thoughts. "I've forgiven you, but Maglor and Nico are going to be the hard sell. Maglor more than Nico, I think."  
  
Coldagnir nodded. "I imagine so. If I were in their position I can't say I wouldn't feel the same way." Their eyes met, before Coldagnir looked back at the road. "I am relieved and grateful for your forgiveness, Sören."  
  
"Well, that forgiveness was earned. You've been nothing but kind to me for the last few years, and you actually helped more than you know when I moved back to Iceland from London and was trying to figure out what to do with myself. We can't undo the past, what's done is done. Here and now, you're a good man, Coldagnir."  
  
"I have one last tiny confession to make, Sören." Coldagnir held his thumb and index finger apart.  
  
"OK." Sören folded his arms and raised an eyebrow, feeling mildly annoyed that there was this one last thing, whatever it was.  
  
"You might have noticed just now that I'm... well, very powerful."  
  
Sören nodded. "It's not a brag. That was fucking awesome, whatever you just did."  
  
"You might now understand that with the kind of power that I carry... if you had chosen not to pardon me, but wanted vengeance... you wouldn't actually have been able to kill me. Nor Maglor. When I was a Balrog, this world's version of me was able to die because my power was... warped. But now that I have been restored to my full power..."  
  
"I see." Sören nodded again. "That makes sense."  
  
"Edenel knows. We decided to hold off on telling you because for one, I thought the news might go over better with you if you saw my power in action first, and two... we know Maglor in particular is hurting, badly. And if you had decided you couldn't forgive and that was the end of it, I would have conceded to give Maglor a momentary satisfaction with the illusion of my death, before escaping, going away never to return to this world."  
  
"That also makes sense," Sören said.  
  
"I apologize for keeping that from you. From here on out, I would rather not keep things from you unless I feel it is necessary for your own protection. But in a sense, we deemed this necessary. Interrupting the chaos to announce that I can't actually die as I am now likely would have created even more problems."  
  
"I don't feel right about keeping this from Maglor, either."  
  
"No, in time he should know also. I don't know if the time to tell him is now."  
  
Sören snorted. "Yeah, no shit. I don't even know how to broach the subject that I forgave you." Sören pinched the bridge of his nose and leaned back in the passenger seat with a sigh. "I'm gonna need a few days before I drop that bomb. It's been... way too tense."  
  
"I understand." Coldagnir patted him. "Let me know when you do address that with him -"  
  
"I will." Then Sören gasped and pointed out the windshield of the jeep. "Oh my fucking god, the aurora."  
  
They pulled over and got out of the jeep; Sören sat on the hood and watched the light show, the black sky lit up with green and cyan and gold and violet and fuchsia and orange, like a rainbow in the dark, the most magnificent aurora Sören had ever seen - and he'd seen many, many auroras. The colors wove and rippled, changing shade and saturation. Sören's breath was taken away, absolutely transfixed on the magic playing out before him.  
  
When he saw Coldagnir smiling at the sky, Sören began to weep. He didn't understand why he was crying, but it felt like a needed catharsis; Coldagnir reached out and Sören leaned on him, letting himself be held, sobbing into the sun god's arms as he was rocked and the colors continued to shimmer and flow.  
  
At last Sören was ready to get back in the jeep. Outside Sören's house in Akureyri they lingered, kissing, and then Coldagnir patted him and Sören got out of the car with a wave. As he walked in the door he smelled the delicious aroma of whatever Dooku was making for dinner - his stomach growled, he'd worked up an appetite earlier - and Maglor and Edenel paused their chess game, Maglor giving Sören a suspicious look as he kicked off his boots and took off his outerwear.  
  
"You were gone all day," Maglor said.  
  
Sören nodded. "There was a lot." He left it at that, not wanting to add, _A lot of sex._ As he sat down, and Snúdur climbed onto him with a "Prrrp?", Sören said, "There was a really nice aurora, so I watched that for awhile."  
  
"OK." Maglor nodded, and moved his knight. He gave Sören the side-eye again, but otherwise didn't remark on it.  
  
Sören was happy to be home - happier still when Dooku had a spoonful of sauce for him to taste and let him know if it needed anything else - but he knew they weren't quite out of the woods yet.  
  
And it felt like somewhere in those woods, they were being watched, hunted, with the next bit of chaos yet to come. Sören shuddered, not liking that feeling at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _"you actually helped more than you know when I moved back to Iceland from London and was trying to figure out what to do with myself."_ \- what Sören is referencing can be found in the one-shot [_Sun Phoenix_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18327341).


	21. Fury

**Fury**

  
  
  
After the time spent with Coldagnir on Monday lifted Sören's spirits somewhat, he was back to the fog of depression on Tuesday and Wednesday, as he sat with the weight of the oath that Coldagnir had given him and how he was going to break that news to Maglor and Dooku, who both clearly were out for blood - blood that they would only taste for a moment, with Coldagnir not truly able to be killed. Sören worried about creating a rift with them, which seemed like the very last thing he needed right now while he was still reeling from the Dagorath and was now also dealing with the shame of being too spooked to drive anymore, the shame and guilt of having his studio closed, not being able to deal with people when he was like this. He was dreading telling them, and yet, he was going to have to tell them.  
  
 _Everything feels like hopeless bullshit._  
  
On Wednesday evening, while Dooku was at the gym and after Sören and Maglor went to walk Huan into downtown and back, Edenel was sitting on the couch with his hands folded in his lap, and Sören knew from prior experience with others that was a classic "we need to talk" pose. Edenel looked at Maglor then and said, "Maglor, would you kindly excuse Sören and myself for a bit? I need to discuss some things with him."  
  
Maglor nodded, and went down the hall to the studio room.  
  
Edenel made them hot chocolate and sat back down. He and Sören stared at each other for a few minutes, Sören sipping the hot cocoa and feeling increasingly nervous, before Edenel finally spoke.  
  
"How did it go with Coldagnir on Monday?" Edenel asked.  
  
Sören glanced nervously down the hall, but he could hear Maglor's acoustic guitar and knew that he was probably deep enough in the Song to not be eavesdropping. Sören nodded and took another sip of his hot cocoa. "It went."  
  
Edenel's lips quirked.  
  
Sören put down his mug. "I have decided to forgive him, and he swore fealty to me, as he had sworn fealty to Fëanor in the Prime universe."  
  
"Good," Edenel said with a nod. "That was what I was hoping for."  
  
"Jæja... obviously they don't know yet," Sören said, referring to Maglor and Dooku. "I don't feel right about keeping it from them but I'm also worried it... you know, won't go over well."  
  
"That's a valid concern," Edenel said. "If I may ask, what prompted you to forgive Coldagnir?"  
  
"It was a combination of things, but the biggest factors were my prior history with him - here, in this lifetime - and something he told me about his time as a Balrog." Tears came to Sören's eyes as he remembered the conversation, the mental image still went straight to his heart like a knife. "When Fingolfin fell, he kept a crystal that came out of Fingolfin's shield..." Sören's voice broke, and he started sobbing, not able to help it, overcome by feeling touched at Coldagnir treasuring the memory, and the grief of Fingolfin's death - knowing Fingolfin might yet still be alive if Fëanor, too, had lived... feeling like he failed his brother.  
  
Edenel got up, pulled Sören from the armchair and onto the couch, into his arms. He pet Sören's curls and rocked him until the tears subsided some. Then he handed Sören's mug of hot chocolate to him to finish. After Sören finished the hot chocolate he leaned on Edenel.  
  
"I think that if they know what tipped you, it might make a difference in their opinion," Edenel said. "Nicolae's in particular."  
  
"I can't trust myself to say it without..." Sören started crying again.  
  
Edenel pulled Sören close again. Sören felt self-conscious about how much he was crying in front of a hardened warrior, like he was making an ass of himself, and said, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I shouldn't be crying like this -"  
  
Edenel cupped Sören's chin in his hand and looked into his eyes. "Sören, you have a beautiful, sensitive heart. You feel things deeply. You can't help it. And those of us who love you, love you for that and other things." Edenel kissed Sören's brow.  
  
Sören took a few deep breaths to try to calm down nonetheless. "It wasn't just what he told me. It was what I could see, what I could feel, from him in the Force as he told me. He was... so reverent. It was..." Sören struggled to find words.  
  
Edenel patted him. "I understand. Well, in light of that information, this is how I propose you break the news to Nicolae and Maglor. Bring Coldagnir here and let him tell them himself about the oath... and about the crystal. Let them feel from him, as he speaks of the crystal, and maybe it will flush out the festering wounds and be a balm."  
  
"OK. When do you..."  
  
"As soon as possible. Not tonight, but perhaps tomorrow."  
  
"Will you be there -"  
  
"Yes. I will interfere and intervene as little as possible - this is between Coldagnir and them - but I will be there. And I'll inform Coldagnir of the plan, tonight."  
  
Sören nodded. He still felt apprehensive, but he agreed that Edenel's plan had the best chance of success. Success was still not guaranteed, if Maglor's murderous rage at Coldagnir last week was any indicator, but they had to at least try.  
  
The cats came out, wanting attention. Rasputin hopped onto Edenel's lap, Snúdur climbed into Sören's arms, and Pumpkin curled up next to Sören, paws on Sören's thigh, kneading and purring. The chorus of purrs helped to soothe Sören a bit, and then Edenel struck with another uncomfortable subject.  
  
"Sören," Edenel said, "it's been a month since the Dagorath."  
  
Sören nodded.  
  
"I know that feeling the death of Fëanor and the others has been difficult for you," Edenel said. "It has been difficult for all of us, myself included. It's not the sort of thing one can get over instantaneously. But it also hurts me to see you like this."  
  
Sören exhaled sharply. His face burned. He'd already been feeling a considerable amount of shame about being reduced to this - huddling under blankets, not functional enough to do much other than watch TV or play Stardew Valley. And it had created a vicious cycle, where the shame he felt over his avoidance of people, places and things made him want to avoid and shut down even more.  
  
"Please, please understand I am not trying to embarass you," Edenel said, taking Sören's hand, seeming to feel the hot surge of shame in him. "I know that depression is not a choice, and I know that your reaction to all of this is rather the result of a trauma pile-up."  
  
"That sounds about right," Sören said. "It would have been bad enough on its own. It's worse because..." Sören winced, not wanting to think about his past, and there it was anyway - never far away. "I've already been through _so much shit_. Losing my mamma just shy of my sixth birthday - you know we're coming up on the thirty-year anniversary of her death soon? And my _miserable fucking childhood_ with my aunt and uncle, getting bullied in school. The feeling of utter fucking _failure_ when I couldn't handle my internship at the hospital. Losing Maglor and spending that time wondering if he'd really married some woman to 'appease his Catholic family' or if he'd just gotten bored with me and left. All the shit with Justin. Then Nico leaving, for awhile, claiming 'irreconcilable differences' - I didn't know for months it was because he thought he was too old and didn't think he was being fair to me..." Sören shook his head. "I'm _tired_. I'm going to be thirty-six in two weeks and I feel fucking old. I had finally gotten some happiness in my life, where things were stable and _good_ for awhile, and then everything fell apart when the Dagorath happened. And now I have the reminder that not even ascended gods could save themselves from destruction, so if I ascend to take on the gods that have me on their shit list - which seems like a tall order at the moment, more than I'm capable of, I can't even drive a car right now - that still doesn't guarantee that I won't keep going through fucking _bullshit_..."  
  
"Yes. Like I said... a trauma pile-up. Shutting down is an understandable reaction." Edenel pet Sören's curls like he was one of the cats. "I don't expect you to be over everything or push yourself to do things you're not able to do yet. And yet..." Edenel took a deep breath. He took Sören's chin in his hand and met his eyes. "What I'm trying to get at is... I miss seeing you do your art."  
  
"Oh." And for some reason, that hurt even more than Edenel suggesting he try to drive again, or re-open his studio, or find something to do with himself during the day other than zone out to TV and his game. "Oh." Sören's jaw trembled, tears in his eyes again. "Well, I can't." Sören swallowed hard, feeling the deepest level of shame yet, fighting the urge to run away, run off into the night and hide somewhere. "I can't make art anymore. It's like... when the Fëanor in your world died, the vision in me died..." Sören started to weep again.  
  
"Sören, _listen to me._ " Edenel compelled Sören to look in his eyes. "The part of you that makes art isn't dead."  
  
"I got like this after Maglor left," Sören choked out. "I couldn't make art for over a year."  
  
"But eventually, you did make art again."  
  
"I did." Sören nodded. "But this feels different."  
  
"I doubt highly that you are permanently unable to make art." Edenel stroked Sören's face. "I believe, very strongly, that part of you is still _there._ And I think if you try to bring that part of you back online, it may help bring you back from the edge, at least a little."  
  
Sören closed his eyes. He shook his head. "I feel like it's dead."  
  
" _Sören._ " Edenel's voice - and the energy emanating from him - made Sören open his eyes again and look at him. Edenel shook his head. "In wintertime, a forest looks dead. Trees barren, wildlife missing, ground frozen. But it's not dead. It comes back, in the spring. The trees sprout new leaves, the wildlife comes out of hibernation, the snow melts and the water makes the grass grow green. Your soul may be in winter right now, but it will not last forever. And it may be in your best interests to try to force an end to that winter in your spirit... to relight the flame in you somehow, some way. I am deeply concerned for you right now. Coldagnir is too. We've discussed you."  
  
"Have you."  
  
"You are someone we care for very much. Of course you would be a topic of discussion."  
  
Sören looked away. "I want to believe you," Sören said, his voice raspy with emotion. He blinked back more tears. "What you said about, you know. My soul in winter. But right now I can't see an end in sight. I feel so fucking _dead_ inside." Sören closed his eyes again. "Like I said, all of this would be bad enough on its own. But after everything I've been through, and having some peace in my life just to have it yanked away from me again... it's hard for me to hope, to have faith things will get better, and it's hard for me to fucking _care_. I make myself get out of bed for the sake of Nico and Maglor, and the animals. If I didn't have that..." Sören shuddered, remembering the scary weeks of depression immediately following the breakup with Dooku in London - when he was in bed all the time, not eating, just crying - before Frankie put him on a plane to Reykjavik at Margrét's insistence. "I have very little in my life anchoring me here right now. If I had someone to take care of, someone to _protect_ , that might be different. But I don't. I need Nico and Maglor more than they need me. They take care of me because I'm, well... _sensitive._ " Sören made a face. "Fragile. _Broken._ Maglor is more my parent this time around, than I am his. If I had kids I'd be trying harder to pull myself out of this shitshow, for their sake, but that's not happening." Sören snorted. At first he didn't know why he was bringing it up to Edenel, it felt like pointless rambling while he was venting to someone, but then he did understand - this, too, was a wound. One of Sören's secret, heart-of-heart wishes, that he had never been able to make come true _because I'm too much of a fuckup to have kids_. And Fëanor and Fingolfin were supposed to have been Edenel's...  
  
"All right. Sören." A deep breath. " _Fëanáro._ " Edenel's tone was firm. "I am not saying try right now, this minute. But I cannot stay here in this world forever -"  
  
"You're leaving?" Sören frowned.  
  
Edenel nodded. "Not right away. I want to make sure a couple of things are resolved before I leave, and making sure that _you're OK_ is one of them." At Sören's fresh tears, Edenel said, "I'll be back to visit. And I'll make sure to be better about it than before - I won't go for an entire year between visits. I will try to see you at least a few times a year. But I have other obligations elsewhere."  
  
"OK." Sören sighed. "I understand."  
  
"But I mean it. Before I leave here to go elsewhere, I want to see one of two things happen: that you're either making art again, at least a little, or you're doing something other than..." Edenel couldn't finish the sentence, and Sören felt Edenel's own cool, hardened exterior crack, the pain he felt for Sören drowning in his grief.  
  
"I'm sorry," Sören said again. "I know you came here to take comfort with us after the Dagorath, our warmth, our laughter, our passion, and there hasn't been as much of that." Sören frowned, feeling guilty, feeling like he'd failed the uncle-father-figure he loved.  
  
"Sören... your grief is understandable. I came here to take comfort with you all, yes, but I didn't expect you to carry on as usual. I knew it would hurt for you too, if you felt it. I just want to make sure, now, that you're... trying to move on. Because that's all we can do. Keep moving."  
  
"Like sharks," Sören said.  
  
"Like sharks." Edenel nodded. His lips quirked. "Like..." And then his voice trailed off and Sören heard it, unspoken. _Arafinwë._  
  
Sören raised an eyebrow. "What? What does Finarfin have to do with sharks?" Then he facepalmed. "Besides fins."  
  
It took Edenel a moment and then he spluttered. "I honestly wasn't trying to make a pun... but I suppose the Force itself did."  
  
Sören wheezed. After all the tears it felt good to laugh and now he did, his sides hurting. "Oh god." He tried to pull himself together to press the issue. "Seriously, though. Besides the godawful shark, fins pun..." Sören frowned. "He hasn't been reincarnated as a shark, has he?"  
  
"As an actual shark, no, but he was given that epithet elsewhere, in other worlds. It's complicated."  
  
"So you've seen him."  
  
"I have."  
  
"Just elsewhere, or in this world too?"  
  
"Both."  
  
"Can you at least tell me his name, or where he is right now?"  
  
Edenel shook his head. "I believe it was Vanimórë who cautioned you that learning exact details of something in the future might interfere with the future playing out, you might get in your own way trying to make something happen and end up preventing that thing from happening... or vice versa."  
  
Sören sighed, and nodded. "Fair enough."  
  
"I will tell you, though, that where I have seen the two of you in other worlds, you are very much together. Very much in love."  
  
Sören snorted then, not able to help himself. "Well, we Icelanders, we like to eat shark."  
  
Now it was Edenel's turn to facepalm, and he laughed too. "Sören, dear..." He gave Sören a kiss. "That's what I like to see." He skritched Sören's beard as if he were a cat, smiling fondly.  
  
Edenel's touch sent a frisson of arousal through Sören. "We like eating other things, too," Sören husked, giving Edenel a look that let him know exactly what he meant. "I know you've wanted to hold back to not be seen as influencing the Coldagnir decision... but I decided. And now I'm starving for you." Sören crinkled his nose and bit his lower lip.  
  
Edenel didn't hold back. He put Rasputin down on the floor; Snúdur and Pumpkin got down as if they knew what was about to happen. Edenel pulled Sören into a kiss and one kiss became another, then another.  
  
Sören palmed the hard bulge in Edenel's jeans, and after a few more feverish kisses, hands roaming, Sören got down on his knees before Edenel and took Edenel's cock in his mouth, sucking hard and fast, hungry, greedy for it. Edenel tugged on Sören's curls, moaning, and it wasn't long before he began rolling his hips, gently fucking Sören's mouth as Sören worked his tongue with his mouth full, making "mmmm" noises as he sucked. Sören's own cock strained his jeans uncomfortably with his lust for the luscious cock in his mouth, the beauty of Edenel lost in pleasure, panting and moaning. When Edenel exploded in his mouth with a cry, Sören swallowed the seed, and as he licked Edenel's cock clean, savoring the taste, Sören got his own cock out and started stroking, desperate for release. Edenel noticed and pulled Sören up, his cock hardening up again at the sight of Sören erect, Sören's cock dripping precum.  
  
Cock slid against cock as they kissed their way down to the bedroom. Sören and Edenel quickly shed the rest of their clothing and Sören shoved Edenel along to the bed. Edenel lay on his back, looking up at Sören with his near-white eyes blazing as Sören used the Force to get the lubricant, and poured it over Edenel's cock. Then Sören straddled Edenel's hips, sank down, and began to ride. Edenel leaned up and Sören threw his arms around him and they kissed deeply, holding each other, Sören bucking hard.  
  
Dooku came back from the gym to find Sören riding Edenel "reverse cowboy", and as Dooku strolled into the bedroom and casually started undressing, Sören lowered himself so he was on his hands and knees, continuing to fuck himself on Edenel's cock, now with his ass rocking back and forth at Edenel who groaned, hands caressing the firm bubble butt before giving it a slap. When Dooku was completely naked - and hard for the sight playing out before him - he got on his knees before Sören and guided his cock into Sören's mouth. Sucking Dooku while he rode Edenel's cock made Sören even needier, bouncing on Edenel harder, sucking Dooku with passion. Maglor walked in from the studio just in time to watch Sören and Edenel come together, which triggered Dooku's own release, filling Sören's mouth with his seed. Sören didn't swallow right away, but gestured for Maglor to come over and kissed him with his mouth full of their lover's cum, which made Maglor groan and start taking off his clothes.  
  
The four men took turns kissing each other, caressing, and at last Sören and Maglor got into the sixty-nine position, Sören on top. Dooku took Sören from behind, and Edenel wrapped Maglor's legs around him and plunged into him. The utter debauchery of it brought Sören to the edge right away, sucking Maglor feverishly, Maglor responding with his own hunger. Every now and again Sören let Maglor's cock slip from his mouth to take a lick at Edenel's cock gliding in and out of Maglor's opening, and after the first few times Sören did that, Maglor took the cue to do the same, letting go of Sören's cock to lick at Dooku. Moans and cries filled the room, sweat-damp flesh slapping together, the scent of four male bodies aroused. Sören got closer and closer, trembling, sucking Maglor harder, faster as Dooku drove into him, taking him savagely. Maglor came first, crying out around Sören's cock in his mouth, and then Edenel came, gasping. Sören and Dooku came within seconds of each other, Dooku taking Sören's hands and squeezing.  
  
They tangled up together, snuggling, petting. Sören loved being close to all of them like this, and he felt an ache, knowing Edenel would eventually be leaving - he wanted to offer Edenel a place with them, a home, having gotten used to having him around... having gotten used to _this_. As much as Sören liked sex one-on-one, and in threesomes, he liked foursomes best of all, and not just the contrast between three bodies, or the balance of the sex play, but also he liked the afterglow, that cozy feeling of the four of them cuddling, tighter and feeling even safer than just three men.  
  
Edenel reached out to pat Sören, seeming to sense how Sören was feeling about it. And then through the post-orgasmic haze, Sören remembered a snippet of their earlier conversation. _Arafinwë._ Wondering if the other Finwion brother would ever be found, and how he would fit in here.  
  
Sören wondered if Finarfin, wherever he was, had felt the Dagorath. If he was reeling from it the way they were, even if he didn't know or understand what had happened. The thought that Finarfin might be out there, feeling the aftereffects, swallowed up by depression, and not know what was going on... _Oh god._ Sören closed his eyes and tried not to cry, not wanting to mar the peaceful coziness of post-coital bliss with yet more tears and pain.  
  
 _Closer than you think,_ Galadriel's voice echoed in his head, from that touch in the garden at Blackheath, what had only been just over a month ago but felt like ages ago now, before all hell had broken loose.  
  
Dooku draped an arm around Sören, began to gently rub Sören's tummy, soothing him. _Daddy's here, sweetheart,_ Dooku spoke into Sören's mind, feeling his distress across their bond.  
  
 _I love you,_ Sören spoke into his mind.  
  
Dooku gave Sören a little kiss. _I know._ His hand wandered from Sören's stomach to rest on Sören's heart. _As you know, Edenel said he was holding back on relations with us to not influence your decision with Coldagnir._  
  
 _Yes._ Sören braced himself.  
  
 _So it's been decided, then?_  
  
Sören shielded his mind more tightly, and patted Dooku's arm. _We'll talk about it tomorrow,_ he said across their bond, and gave Dooku a gentle shove as if to add _cozy time now, no serious business._  
  
 _All right, sweetheart._ But Dooku gave him a somewhat stern look as their eyes opened and Dooku looked over at the clock. "I should get dinner started," Dooku mumbled, and then with a small smile he added, "Even if we just had dessert."  
  
  
_  
  
  
Sören ended up not being able to sleep that night, feeling on edge about the impending visit from Coldagnir. He attempted to do something other than watch TV or play Stardew Valley - he sat with his sketchbook for awhile, and thought about things he might like to capture with his art, like the way he'd seen Coldagnir grow wings and burst into flame, shooting up to the sun. But after a few strokes of his pencil he stopped, running into that block again, frustrated.  
  
And then he got angry with himself and threw the sketchbook and pencil across the room with a cry.  
  
 _Damn it all to hell._ Sören got up from the couch. He found himself going into the closet in the studio room where he'd stored some of his paintings to not take up space as they were either waiting to be hung or displayed somewhere, possibly at an exhibit. He thought about the way Einar had ripped apart his sketches, the way Justin had destroyed works in progress and finished canvases. Now Sören's heart was hammering in his ears as he took out the most recent painting he'd finished - the one of himself and Maglor, at Reynisfjara with the Silmarils - and then he rummaged in the closet to find the very first painting he'd ever done, that had been replicated in part with the ink on his back, a fiery phoenix and what looked like a falcon or eagle, made out of water, soaring and dancing together, tails entwined as a star - what he now knew was the Star of Fëanor - went nova underneath them in brilliant rainbow-white light. In his pajamas, Sören carried the paintings to the backyard, almost immune to the cold in the raging fire of his anger.  
  
He looked at where the bonfire had been lit in the backyard close to two weeks ago, for the small memorial they'd held for the Dagorath. There was still kindling. Sören's nostrils flared and a small fire leapt into being.  
  
Sören watched the fire burn for a few minutes, shaking. A voice in the back of his head was screaming _no, don't_ and then he thought of being on the couch just a little while ago, not able to draw, the vision still gone, still dead inside.  
  
"Fuck it," Sören said. He used the Force to take the painting of himself, Maglor and the Silmarils, and threw it onto the fire.  
  
The fire went up with a roar, enough that it made Sören jump and step back. He watched the painting burn - the smell of the burning oil painting was hideous, nauseating... and Sören's sick feeling intensified as he realized what he was doing, destroying something he'd made in the fever-madness of his ire with himself, the raw grief of the Dagorath.  
  
 _What a baby, having a temper tantrum,_ Sören scolded himself. Einar's words came to him: _You are nobody, nothing._ And Justin's: _You think you're such a special fucking snowflake, but you can't do anything right._  
  
"Well," Sören gritted out, talking to nobody, "if I can't do anything right, then let's not do that halfway."  
  
He used the Force to pick up the first painting he'd ever made. And just before he could throw it on the fire, the back door flew open and Maglor stormed outside, also in his pajamas, looking as angry as he did the day he went after Coldagnir in the living room. He snatched the painting away before Sören could use the Force to throw it on the fire, and then he watched the other painting continue to burn and the look of murderous rage on his face turned to shock and grief.  
  
"Ada, no," Maglor gasped.  
  
Sören dropped to his knees in the snow and started sobbing. "Goddammit, Maglor. Just lemme..." He used the Force to try to grab the painting away from him.  
  
Maglor's response was to throw the painting safely inside the kitchen, and then he grabbed Sören and picked him up off the ground and carried him inside. He put Sören down on the couch and then he ran back out, carrying the household fire extinguisher. When he came back in, his expression was neutral but his eyes were wild. He approached Sören laying on the couch slowly - giving the impression of calm but for his eyes - and then he blew up again, yelling, "WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?"  
  
Sören facepalmed. "It's my art, Maglor."  
  
"And you're _my_ father. You don't get it, do you? I FELT THAT IN THE SONG. IT WOKE ME UP."  
  
Sören sneered. "At least you can feel the Song again. I can't feel shit."  
  
Maglor glared, and Sören glared back.  
  
Now Edenel and Dooku were up. As they came down to the living room to see what the ruckus was, Sören stormed past them, resisting Edenel and Dooku's hands reaching out for him to stop him. Sören pulled off his pajamas and began putting on clothes. Dooku came in just as Sören was in jeans, shirtless, using the Force to bring over a Nine Inch Nails shirt.  
  
"Sören -"  
  
" _Leave me the fuck alone._ " Sören hated it as soon as the words were out of his mouth, not wanting to hurt Dooku's feelings - especially not now - but he couldn't stand anyone feeling pity for him when his mental illness was acting up like this, and he felt guilty and ashamed for what he'd done, yet the self-destructive urge was making him want to torch all the paintings.  
  
He needed to get away from everyone, everything.  
  
"Where do you think you're going?" Maglor asked as Sören headed to the front door.  
  
" _Out,_ " Sören snapped, and slammed the door behind him.  
  
He didn't know where he was going. His feet took him around Akureyri, walking with no destination in mind - walking and walking. It was the sort of mileage that would have given him an asthma flareup before taking Van's blood, but now Sören could walk longer distances without his lungs giving out or getting too tired so long as he was otherwise not feeling poorly. And the sharp cold of the winter air felt good on his fevered skin. The sights around his hometown helped to distract him, ground him out of the storm of fury and back into the present.  
  
Sören finally ended up at the hotel. Coldagnir came down to get him, and they went to his room first. As soon as Sören stepped into Coldagnir's suite he fell apart, and Coldagnir picked him up and carried him over to the couch, put Sören on his lap and cradled Sören against his chest.  
  
"I can't make art anymore," Sören said when he found his words. "I hate myself. I hate this. I just..." He took some deep breaths before more sobs wracked him.  
  
Coldagnir pet him, and kissed the top of Sören's head, then his brow. Then he cupped Sören's chin in his hand and he said, "Do you remember when we made love earlier this week, your fiery energy escalated all of the solar energy that I was carrying, and I started overheating even more and needed to discharge it?"  
  
"I'll never forget it." Sören frowned. "I wanted to draw you and... I couldn't." Tears of shame stung Sören's eyes. And then the bitter truth, roaring up from the abyss: _I cannot create anymore. I can only destroy. Like that universe I destroyed._  
  
Coldagnir sighed and patted his shoulder. "Well, maybe I could... try to light your fire. Try to... illuminate your mind's eye, shrouded in darkness. It's worth a shot."  
  
"What if it doesn't work?" Sören started sobbing again. "There's too much... everything. All at once. Can we just get through this business of you telling Nico and Maglor about the oath, and the crystal, before we do this other thing that might not even work -"  
  
"I don't want you to feel overwhelmed, Sören. We can wait, yes." Coldagnir gave him a kiss. "The offer is a standing one."  
  
"OK. In the meantime... can you hold me for awhile?"  
  
"Yes." Coldagnir stroked Sören's curls, his beard, his cheek. "I can certainly do that."  
  
In the embrace of the sun god, Sören rested.  
  
  
_  
  
  
In the late afternoon, as the sun set in a blaze of red, orange and pink feathering the deep blue, Sören got in the passenger seat of Coldagnir's rental and Coldagnir drove them to Sören's house in Akureyri. The jeep wasn't parked outside, which meant someone had gone out - Sören had Coldagnir wait for a minute so he could check and see who it was. Only Edenel was there, playing fetch with Huan. Sören came back out and gestured for Coldagnir to follow.  
  
Sören ended up marching Coldagnir out to the kitchen and then the yard. He surveyed the carnage of the charred canvas - not all of it was destroyed, but enough of it was to make it beyond repair. Coldagnir gasped when he saw it. He turned to Sören with a look of horror on his face. "Sören..."  
  
"Jæja, that's..." Sören sighed deeply and pinched the bridge of his nose. He felt deep shame and regret for what he'd done, and yet the self-destructive part of him screamed to pitch in all the rest of his paintings and burn them. He shoved it away with a shiver down his spine. "That's my work." Sören's breath steamed the air as he gave a sharp exhale. "I had a bit of a fit after I tried to draw this morning and couldn't."  
  
Coldagnir put an arm around him. "Sören, I have sworn fealty to you, and that means never taking up arms against you... fighting at your side. Fighting your enemies as if they were my own." His free hand tilted Sören's face to his and he gave Sören a stern look, bronze eyes blazing. "I would not be honoring my oath if I let you do this to yourself."  
  
Sören looked down and shifted his weight from one foot to the other.  
  
"I swore to you, and now, Sören, I need you to swear to me that you will never destroy your work again. Unless your life, or that of someone dear to you, depends on it." Coldagnir made Sören look at him again. "Swear it to me, Sören, or I cannot uphold my oath to you."  
  
"I swear," Sören mumbled.  
  
Coldagnir shook his head. "I swore my life to you on my blood. You need to swear on something properly symbolic." He pointed to the back door. "Go in and get the Silmarils."  
  
"I -" Sören swallowed hard. Even though their yard was fenced in, Sören still had reservations about wearing such a thing outside, in case the neighbors saw, and his neighbors were home. But even more than that, oathing on the Silmarils was, to Sören's mind, the most sacred and binding of oaths. And he felt like that impulse to self-destruct was only a hair's breadth from running unchecked again...  
  
"Do it." Coldagnir folded his arms.  
  
Sören went in, went down the hall to the studio room, and retrieved the tiara that Fëanor had made for him - Sören got choked up as he took it, remembering Fëanor, feeling the empty void he'd left in the weave of worlds - and he carried it in his hands out to the yard. Without thinking about it, Sören let go of the tiara and waved his hand, using the Force to let the tiara hover before them, the brilliant jewels shining on them like a rainbow lamp. Despite his pain at what Sören had done, Coldagnir smiled at the Silmarils.  
  
"This is your work, Sören," Coldagnir said. "This is what still lives inside you. It's still there."  
  
Sören tried not to cry. He was so sick of crying all the time, and he couldn't help but think everyone else in his life was sick of him crying all the time too.  
  
Coldagnir gestured to the floating tiara. "May I?"  
  
Sören nodded.  
  
Coldagnir took the tiara in his hands and now it was Sören's turn to kneel before him - not that he really needed to, considering Coldagnir had a foot on him. And just as Coldagnir held the tiara of Silmarils, the back door opened and there was Maglor, somehow looking even angrier than he had this morning, than he had last week when Coldagnir revealed he had once been a Balrog.  
  
" _You._ " Maglor narrowed his eyes at Coldagnir. "Bad enough you came back here, but now you dare to touch the Silmarils, you _filth?_ "


	22. Fire

**Fire**

  
  
  
Sören held up a hand. "Maglor no -"  
  
But before Sören could call out "let him explain", Maglor leapt onto Coldagnir like a giant predatory cat, wrestling him to the ground. Maglor tried to grab the tiara of Silmarils out of Coldagnir's hand; Coldagnir held his arm out of reach and Sören used the Force to pull the tiara over to him. "Maglor _stop_ ," Sören yelled. "Let him explain..."  
  
"There is nothing to explain." Maglor's fists flew, punching Coldagnir's face and chest. Then he grabbed Coldagnir by the throat and began to choke him.  
  
That was enough. Even though Sören knew Coldagnir couldn't be killed by Maglor, and he saw Coldagnir wasn't even putting up a fight - Coldagnir seemed to be letting Maglor beat him, to unleash the eons of pent-up grief over his father's death - Sören still couldn't take it. But he was also angry that Maglor had called Coldagnir filth - someone he loved - and just as angry that Maglor would deem Coldagnir unworthy to touch the Silmarils when that was not for him to decide.  
  
Sören waved his free hand and pushed. Maglor was thrown off of Coldagnir into the air and fell two feet away. Maglor got up. Coldagnir was still laying there. Maglor brushed himself off and then he ran towards Coldagnir and lunged again. Before he could make contact, Maglor went flying again, this time farther, landing harder. Maglor finally looked at Sören, and he was stunned.  
  
"You -"  
  
"I told you to _stop_ , Kanafinwë." Sören heard the edge in his voice, felt it on his face. He shook his head. "No more of this."  
  
Maglor caught his breath. Sören went over to Coldagnir, who had now sat up, and Sören got on his knees. He presented the tiara of Silmarils. "Shall we?"  
  
"You... you can't let him hold that." Maglor shook his head.  
  
"I bloody well _can_ and I _will_ because last time I checked, Kanafinwë, the Silmarils were mine. Fëanor's. Not yours. If I wasn't here then they'd go to you by right, of course. But I'm here now, and it is _my_ call who is and isn't worthy. He swore fealty to me. Now he is asking me to make an oath to never destroy my work again, as so upset you early this morning -"  
  
"Adar. Have you lost your damn mind?"  
  
"Yes," Sören said. He held out the tiara to Coldagnir.  
  
Coldagnir shook his head. "Not now." He looked at Maglor, then back at Sören. "Let's wait for things to de-escalate first."  
  
"Fair enough," Sören said. He rose to his feet and then he helped pull Coldagnir up, even though Coldagnir didn't need his help.  
  
Maglor looked angry all over again. "So that's what you decided, then. To let him live, and he swore allegiance to you."  
  
"Yes." Sören nodded. "That's exactly what I decided. Is there a problem?"  
  
"He may get to live, but he's not going to enjoy it." With that, Maglor set himself upon Coldagnir again, this time harder than before, shoving Coldagnir up against the wall, punching, kicking.  
  
Just before Sören could Force throw Maglor again, Dooku came behind Sören and put a hand on his shoulder and Sören felt like he was put in a sort of lock. He could still talk, but it was otherwise like trying to push through plate glass. "Nico. Coldagnir swore an oath to me. You can't let him -"  
  
"I'll make sure Macalaurë doesn't kill him." Dooku patted Sören's shoulder.  
  
That _infuriated_ Sören. "Did you not hear what I said? He swore an _oath_. Does that mean nothing to you, Fingolfin?"  
  
Dooku said nothing.  
  
Sören was angry enough now that, feeding on the rage burning in him, he pushed as hard as he could - first to break past the lock Dooku had on him, where he couldn't move or use the Force - and then he used the Force to shove Maglor off of Coldagnir once again. Just before Dooku could reach out and grab Sören to put him in another Force-lock, Sören raised his fist and Dooku went up in the air and began to choke.  
  
"You will _not_ ," Sören growled, "Ever. Do that to me again."  
  
Their eyes met. Dooku gave Sören a pleading look. Sören let go and Dooku fell hard - if this had been before Vanimórë's blood had changed his physiology, he likely would have broken at least a couple bones in the fall. Sören saw Maglor getting up and Sören threw him again, not wanting to take any chances. Then Sören grabbed Coldagnir's arm and started marching him inside, through the kitchen, into the living room. Sören put on his boots and grabbed his coat, shoving the tiara in his coat pocket.  
  
"We're leaving," Sören said.  
  
Edenel went with them.  
  
  
_  
  
  
  
On the way back to the hotel Coldagnir asked, "You're not... leaving them for good, are you?"  
  
"No." Sören shook his head. He took a few deep breaths to try to calm himself, but he still felt a hot surge of rage at both Maglor and Dooku. "Just for tonight. Tomorrow I'll go back and see if we can try this again. Edenel, I know that you thought it would go over better if Coldagnir explains he had the crystal from Fingolfin's shield -" There it was again, the pain, even as angry as he was with Dooku right now. "And I still think he should explain that. But first, I think I need to have a talk with my son. Then I need to have a talk with my brother."  
  
"Yes," Edenel said.  
  
When they arrived in the hotel lobby, the concierge gave Coldagnir a concerned look. "Do you need the police?" she asked.  
  
Coldagnir laughed and shook his head. "No, I was at Krav Maga practice."  
  
Sören snorted. Edenel chuckled, and Coldagnir managed a small smile.  
  
In the hotel room, Sören immediately went to the kitchenette to get ice from the freezer, and hit the mini-bar on the way back, taking a couple small bottles of vodka. He found a first aid kit in the bathroom and brought it out.  
  
Coldagnir glanced at the vodka with a bemused look. "I'm not going to get an infection from the scrapes on my back, where the fence got me. I burn too hot for any bacteria to survive."  
  
"It's not for that." Sören unscrewed a tiny bottle of vodka with his teeth, and then he took a nip and handed it to Coldagnir.  
  
Coldagnir laughed. "I can't really get drunk, either, but the sentiment is appreciated." He took a nip and handed it back to Sören. Sören chugged down the entire rest of the tiny bottle, then threw it in the trash.  
  
Sören made ice packs for Coldagnir's face and chest and stomach; Coldagnir took off his shirt, which was a nice distraction for Sören. For awhile they sat in silence as Sören himself held the ice packs on Coldagnir, so the heat of Coldagnir's hands didn't melt them right away - they were still melting much more quickly than usual against Coldagnir's skin, and Sören's lust for the sight of Coldagnir shirtless, the long red mane cascading down to his knees, didn't help any.  
  
Sören made a second set of ice packs, then a third. As Sören applied the ice, Coldagnir held him, and Sören nuzzled the non-bruised part of his face. Finally Sören said, "He got you pretty good."  
  
"He did."  
  
"He's pretty strong, if he can bruise a god."  
  
"Yes. Maglor is indeed as mighty as the legends boast."  
  
"You were letting him -"  
  
"It was a cheap form of therapy."  
  
"I understand what you were trying to do," Sören said, and then he shook his head. "The thing is, that could have gotten really ugly out there. Like, neighbors calling the police ugly. There are exactly four cops in Akureyri, they have nothing to do, they would have _eaten that shit up_ if they got called in." Sören cringed. "As it is, I'm hoping that they didn't see any of... what went down with me using the Force outside... and try to report it anywhere." Sören shuddered, remembering the question Donald Trump had been asked about "psychics" and Trump's reply of "We'll look into it." Iceland was not the United States, but it was close enough distance to be worrisome, and American intelligence could work internationally besides.  
  
"Do you think it's prudent to call Charlie on the off chance that your neighbors did see it?"  
  
"I don't, because..." Sören laughed, feeling a bit sheepish. "Just before the Dagorath, Nico and I, ah... we used a Portal to go to England, to attend Qui-Gon's funeral. We didn't tell Charlie we were going, and we were, um... spotted and MI6 apparently had to clean it up. Charlie was _pissed_ and told us the next time we have an 'incident', as she calls it, we're getting a 'babysitter'. I really don't want some MI6 agent up my ass..." Then Sören grinned and cackled, not able to help it. "Well, maybe I do, if he's hot."  
  
Coldagnir and Edenel exchanged glances; Edenel gave a little smirk but said nothing.  
  
"ANYWAY..." Sören's cheeks burned at the mental image of some James Bond type bending him over and plowing him. "I'd rather not alarm Charlie, if it's all the same to you. It wasn't all that light outside when shit happened. We're probably fine."  
  
"OK." Coldagnir nodded. "It's up to you."  
  
"At least somebody respects my decisions," Sören blurted out before he could stop himself.  
  
"I don't think Maglor was intentionally _trying_ to disrespect you," Coldagnir said, patting Sören's hand.  
  
"You can intend to not run someone over with your car and still run them over," Sören said. "Whether or not he intended to disrespect me... he still did, on multiple counts. First and foremost he called you filth, and that pissed me off. I happen to care about you very much, and it wasn't just insulting someone I care about, but insulting my choice to care for you. Second he acted like the Silmarils were his and that he gets to say who can touch them or not. _I understand the Oath he took._ For fuck's _sake_ , nobody has to explain that to me. That _still_ does not give him the right..." Sören took a few deep breaths, feeling the anger rise again, and tried to bring it back down. "The Silmarils are _mine_. Fëanor is back in town."  
  
"He could have thought I was taking them from you," Coldagnir said. "The tiara was in my hand, you were on your knees, he had no context."  
  
"Maybe he thought that, but that brings me to my third point, which is that I told him to _stop_. If he thought that you were taking them, he should have cut the shit as soon as I told him to stop, and he did not. _That_ is a problem. So when I come back, Maglor and I are going to have a few words. For tonight, though, you're stuck with me." Sören looked over at Edenel. "And I guess you're staying the night here too."  
  
Edenel nodded. "If only because I might escalate things further with my presence."  
  
"Well." Sören leered. "Whatever shall we do to pass the time?"  
  
"You should have some food first," Coldagnir said. "You expended a lot of energy back there."  
  
As if on cue, Sören's stomach growled. "OK." Sören cocked his head to one side. "You sure you want to go out like that? You look like you've been in a bar fight. Might get some weird questions."  
  
Coldagnir held up a finger. He took a deep breath and Sören watched as a golden light went out around Coldagnir like he'd turned on a lamp, then, as the light glittered, the bruises faded, warmth radiating from Coldagnir like he was a stove. Coldagnir shivered, and then he met Sören's eyes as the golden bubble dissolved and it was just the usual brightness radiating from him.  
  
"Was that speed healing, or glamour?" Sören asked.  
  
"Speed healing."  
  
"I feel like an idiot," Sören said. "Getting the ice for your bruises-"  
  
"It was an excuse to feel your touch," Coldagnir said, smiling. He took Sören's hands and kissed them. "It was nice to have your tender loving care, especially when others hate me." His smile became a little frown, and then he smiled again, stroking Sören's cheek. "Besides, you needed that too. It gave you back a feeling of control over the situation."  
  
"I can't argue that."  
  
"Just like Maglor beating me, gave him back a feeling of control."  
  
Sören shook his head. "I'm not about to let Maglor do that again. _I know now_ he can't kill you, I know you can speed heal from the little bit of damage he can do, all that shit. It's just..." Sören exhaled sharply. "The principle of the matter. You took an _oath_."  
  
"So did he," Coldagnir said.  
  
"Fine, but he's not allowed to beat you up, OK?" Sören scowled. "You know, for all this talk of 'let's defer to Sören with what he wants to do about the thing', _nobody is actually deferring to me_ and I'm fucking tired of it. I realize that I've been an amorphous blob since the Dagorath hit and haven't exactly been the most assertive but goddammit, our family was already ripped the fuck apart by the Valar. I don't even know where my other brother is, or _who_ my other brother is, only that he's out there. Edenel, you said yourself that divide and conquer is a strategy our enemies favor. Well, this is my judgment call - enough of that. Let's pull together, _all of us._ That's what I want. I have spoken, now people better bloody _listen_ to me."  
  
For a few seconds there was almost a deafening silence, and then Edenel clapped, slowly. Coldagnir also applauded, and held Sören tight and gave him a kiss.  
  
"That's what we like to see," Coldagnir said. "That fight in you. That fire."  
  
" _Yes_ ," Edenel said. "At least something good came out of this mess - I daresay you're a little less numb than you were, Sören."  
  
"Well then." Sören rose to his feet. "Goddammit, I'm hungry, let's get something to eat."  
  
Coldagnir and Edenel glamoured themselves - hair down to their waists instead of their knees, Edenel hiding his ears beneath his hair; Sören gave a small sigh, wishing they didn't have to do that, though they were still beautiful even glamoured. Then they went down to the hotel restaurant. There was a different concierge at the desk, which relieved Sören because he didn't want to have to explain why Coldagnir was obviously battered coming in and now looked normal again - he could have lied and said it was makeup, but he was a terrible liar. After a meal of assorted fish and shellfish, Sören felt a bit better, though he wished he could have had a nice dinner at home with Maglor, Dooku, Edenel and Coldagnir like a family. Sören gave a little wistful sigh as they got up from the table.  
  
That wistfulness didn't last long. Edenel joined him in the shower. For a few minutes Edenel just held him under the spray, letting Sören lean on him, offering his comfort, his strength. Then Edenel began to shampoo Sören's curls and Sören melted into his touch. As Sören rinsed his hair they kissed, and as Sören shampooed the flood of Edenel's hair they kissed some more, hard cocks rubbing together. They lathered each other slowly, sensually - when Edenel soaped up Sören's back, his cock slid in the crack of Sören's ass and Sören wiggled against him teasingly, eliciting a slap.  
  
When they came out, both leaking precum, Coldagnir got on his knees right away and took both their cocks into his mouth. Sören gasped, and Edenel groaned, his hands in Coldagnir's hair. Sören and Edenel resumed kissing as Coldagnir sucked them together, and the feel of their cocks continuing to slide together, now in the hot, wet vise-like grip of Coldagnir's mouth brought Sören close to that edge, trembling. Soon they were gently fucking his mouth together, kissing each other more deeply, hands roaming, and when they climaxed at the same time, Coldagnir drank it down and licked them clean, his tongue giving them aftershocks.  
  
Coldagnir rose to kiss each of them in turn; the lingering taste of their combined seed on Coldagnir's tongue got Sören hard again. Coldagnir stroked Sören's face and pet the damp curls. "Get the Silmarils," Coldagnir husked, "and I will stoke that fire."  
  
Sören used the Force to pull the tiara of Silmarils out of his coat pocket. He handed it to Coldagnir, who put it on Sören's head. Edenel turned off the light in the hotel suite so the glow of the Silmarils would be even more pronounced.  
  
Coldagnir had Sören lay on his stomach, and Sören watched as he retrieved the vial of oil from the bedtable. But instead of taking Sören right away, he poured oil over Sören's back - the oil warmed from the bottle in Coldagnir's hands. Coldagnir and Edenel massaged him together, and kissed and licked Sören all over as their hands rubbed and kneaded. Sören's cock throbbed, wanting them both, aching for more. When they rolled him onto his front their touch was even more delicious, and it was all Sören could do not to come as they feasted on his nipples together, teasing them into swollen, exquisitely sensitive peaks, playing with the nipple rings. As they licked his cock together Sören heard himself swearing in Icelandic, then not able to make words at all, only deep, primal growls and grunts, his body quivering with white-hot need.  
  
Finally, when Sören could take no more, Coldagnir lay on the bed next to him. Sören would have gladly worshiped the sun god's perfect body, but Coldagnir poured oil directly over his cock, looking almost angry in its arousal. He held open his arms and Sören climbed on top of him, straddled his hips and sank down, giving a shuddery sigh as Coldagnir stretched and filled him.  
  
A few slow, sweet thrusts later, Coldagnir gestured for Edenel to join them; Edenel got on his knees behind Sören, arms wrapped around him. "In the dark winter night of your soul, Winter and the Sun will duel together inside you," Coldagnir whispered as Edenel pushed inside, stuffing Sören completely.  
  
The thought of their cocks rubbing together inside him made Sören feverish with lust, the feel of them inside him, stroking him so deliciously made him even needier. Sören rode them hard, taking all they had to give, savoring every push and pull, the feel of Edenel's arms around him and Coldagnir's hands wandering over him, Edenel's hot kisses on his neck and shoulder and the heat of Coldagnir's eyes as he watched Sören in his glory, completely lost in passion. The pleasure got more and more intense, until Sören was gasping for breath, shaking, begging for release, and yet a part of him wanted this to never stop, to keep feeling them...  
  
Sören's climax overtook him, Sören giving a fierce cry as he spent over Coldagnir's torso. Edenel came next - Winter spending itself - and the Sun triumphed, Coldagnir smiling, joy on his face as his seed claimed both of them. Sören felt brilliant golden light wash over him, like basking in a sunbeam, and he melted into Coldagnir's arms, flexing contentedly as the sun god held him close, as Edenel pet him and rained kisses over his face.  
  
"It will be all right, my dear," Edenel said.  
  
  
_  
  
  
After taking some time to think about it, Sören decided that what happened with Maglor and Dooku was serious enough that he was going to need to take this a step at a time - he'd go home for awhile on Friday and address Maglor privately, one-on-one, then he'd spend the weekend at the hotel with Coldagnir and Edenel and go back home on Monday to talk to Dooku; Edenel would take Maglor out on Monday while Sören and Coldagnir met with Dooku privately. Sören already missed his husbands but he felt it really needed to be impressed upon them that what happened on Thursday was not OK.  
  
So on Friday the thirteenth, Coldagnir drove Sören home; Sören would call him when he was ready for a return pickup. Dooku was at the gym, which was expected, and Maglor was outside with Huan when Sören arrived. Maglor glared at Coldagnir in the driver's seat, but did not approach the jeep, and Coldagnir quickly drove away after Sören stepped out.  
  
Sören and Maglor just looked at each other for a moment - Maglor looked sad now rather than angry - and Sören walked inside without saying anything. He poured himself coffee from the pot, fixed it, and sat down on the couch. A couple of minutes after he sat, drinking the coffee, Maglor came in, letting Huan off the leash, taking off his boots and jacket.  
  
"Well," Maglor said.  
  
"Sit down." Sören gestured to the armchair.  
  
Maglor sat and folded his hands.  
  
"I'm going to be at the hotel this weekend, but I came by to talk to you first, and then on Monday I'm going to talk to Nico myself while you and your great-uncle go out for a bit," Sören said.  
  
Maglor shrugged. "I don't know what there is to talk about. Just because you forgave him doesn't mean I have to."  
  
"See, this is part of why we need to talk." Sören scowled. "You guys were all like 'let's let Sören decide', and now that I've decided, you're not respecting that decision. That is a problem. That is _especially_ a problem if we're going to be spending eternity together. Whatever you were to me in a past life or not, here and now, if you disrespect me, I am out that fucking door. I already went through my needs and concerns being run roughshod with Justin -"  
  
"I sincerely hope," Maglor said quietly, "you are not comparing me to that monstrosity."  
  
"I'm not," Sören said. "But there were red flags with him that I ignored, and now here's a red flag from you. I get it that you're still traumatized by Fëanor's death and that's not something you can just get over, and I get it that when a person is triggered they don't necessarily act rationally. But now I'm telling you - I told you to stop, yesterday, and you went ahead and kept doing what you were doing anyway. I feel like my decision doesn't matter to either you or Nico, after you guys had conceded to let me decide. I am not asking you to like him, I am not even asking you to forgive him. However, I am not asking you, I am telling you - he took an oath to me. You will respect me by respecting that. You are getting in the way of the oath if you attack him or otherwise make him feel unsafe under my roof."  
  
"Adar, I don't mean to be rude, but I want to ask you, sincerely, if the situation was reversed, how would you feel?" Maglor raised an eyebrow. "It's all fine and good for you to take the high road and espouse forgiveness, because you just died. That was the easy part. You haven't had to live with what I've had to live with for the last fifteen thousand plus years."  
  
Sören pursed his lips. His nostrils flared, feeling the anger rising in him again. "Sure, dying painfully and being _reincarnated as mortal_ , into a family where I was abused, into a body with health problems and fucked up brain chemistry, and having nightmares about the way I died since I was four, not understanding what the fuck I was dreaming about until comparatively recently, that's been a real fucking cakewalk, Maglor." Sören shook his head. "You know, you have some goddamn nerve -"  
  
"OK, that was a poor choice of words." Maglor stroked his chin. "Let me see if I can make an analogy you'll understand." He leaned back in his chair and steepled his hands. "What if, hypothetically, we found Arafinwë and we found he'd helped Justin Roberts in some way? Like for example, he was Justin's defense lawyer or the like, and he cleared Justin on some charge where he did something super fucked up, was 100% guilty and should have done time. Would you forgive him?"  
  
"That's a scenario that doesn't exist, because Justin is dead," Sören said, "and though he wasn't smart per se, he was smart enough to avoid trouble with the law in this lifetime. And he bullied me enough to know I'd never report him. His activities were only exposed after his death."  
  
"I'm talking hypothetical here. Like if you had ever reported Justin to the police for raping you. In theory. Don't overanalyze this too much, just go with your gut."  
  
"I'd probably be pissed off," Sören said, cringing, "but he's still family. If Ara found out he had played for the wrong team and he was truly sorry for what he'd done, I'd forgive him. In part because I guarantee you that if he was in Justin's space long enough to help him, he's going to become a victim himself, Justin would hurt him some way somehow, because that is what that bastard does. Which is... not all that dissimilar to what happened with Coldagnir. He was hurt too, during his time as a Balrog. He was raped. He was tortured. He showed me late last night, when I had a nightmare and couldn't go back to sleep." Sören shuddered, remembering. "Any evil that he did to others, was paid unto him as well. He's been through enough." Sören met Maglor's eyes. "And Coldagnir is family. Whether you like that or not, he is. He's as good as married to my sister. He's been a friend of mine for years. Your great-uncle loves him. And like I said, I'm not even asking you to forgive him, like I would forgive Ara under the scenario you just pulled out of your ass there. I'm asking you simply to respect the decision I made and leave Coldagnir alone."  
  
Maglor rubbed his face like a wet cat and gave Sören an irritated look. "So, were you thinking with your dick when you made that decision, or -"  
  
"OK, that's it." Sören got up, fury blazing through him. "I've had about enough of your bullshit."  
  
"So... I'm expected to accept my father's killer, but I'm the one who's full of bullshit here -"  
  
Not thinking, just feeling, Sören went to the hall closet, where he'd put the swords after Maglor had attacked Coldagnir in the living room, and where the swords had been sitting since that time. He pulled out his own sword, and then he used the Force to push Maglor's sword towards him.  
  
"You need to blow off some steam, brat," Sören said. "You want to hurt Coldagnir - well, you need to go through me first."  
  
With that, Sören charged him, right in the living room. Maglor blurted out, "Ada, I don't want to fight you" just before Sören took a swing at his neck; Maglor's sword came up to block.  
  
Sören slipped his sword away from Maglor's and swung lower, to his gut - again, Maglor had to block.  
  
"Fight me, coward," Sören spat. He didn't actually think of Maglor as a coward, but he knew those words would make Maglor snap and get Maglor to fight him.  
  
And he was right. Maglor sprang into action, taking a swing at Sören, who parried. Then Sören made a riposte, going for Maglor's arm. Maglor blocked, and swung at Sören again. Sören began to march backwards out of the living room, bringing Maglor with him; they continued taking swings at each other through the kitchen and finally into the yard, in their socks. Sword clashed sword, and Sören egged him on. "You want to keep disrespecting me? What, are you jealous of Coldagnir? Afraid I like his dick better than yours?"   
  
Maglor swung even harder. Despite himself, Sören went hard in his jeans, thinking Maglor looked devastatingly sexy like this, thick eyebrows drawn over his eyes blazing, the fierce look on his face. He noticed Maglor was hard too, and Sören couldn't resist. "Afraid your boyfriend Van likes his dick better than yours?"  
  
" _HE IS NOT MY BOYFRIEND_ ," Maglor roared, taking another swing that Sören dodged, and Sören made a feint, leading Maglor to think his sword was going for his arm, then Sören's blade touched Maglor's stomach. In a real fight, Sören would drive that blade through and disembowel him - Maglor dropped his sword, knowing Sören had won that round of sparring.  
  
Sören also dropped his sword. Then he snarled, "We're not through yet," and Force threw Maglor.  
  
Before Maglor could get up, Sören pounced on him. Sören knew he had the disadvantage in wrestling - Maglor was a foot taller, he was more muscular, stronger, Sören was of slight build. Sören still pinned him, until Maglor rolled Sören onto his back. They struggled for dominance on the ground, Sören trying to free himself from Maglor's grip, trying to roll Maglor onto the ground and pin him again. After minutes of writhing underneath him, Sören managed to do so, just for Maglor to roll him again a few seconds later. Their cocks were rock hard and rubbing together through their jeans as their bodies wrestled together, and they were panting now, flushed - the heat and longing in Maglor's eyes threatened to undo Sören right then.  
  
"Is this why you've been acting like such a shit?" Sören teased. "Did you used to get off like this with your boyfriend Van? Do you miss it?"  
  
"He. Is. Not. My. Boyfriend."  
  
"Sure. Just like Coldagnir isn't one of Van's boyfriends -"  
  
Maglor _growled_ , which made Sören's cock jolt, and then Sören kissed him hard. Maglor groaned into the kiss, returning it, tongues teasing, their cocks grinding together more insistently. Maglor let go of Sören's arms and Sören wrapped his arms around Maglor, playing with the hair cascading down his back, then sliding to cup Maglor's firm, shapely ass through his jeans.  
  
Maglor got up, breathless, and he pulled Sören up with him. Then he threw Sören over his shoulder, caveman-style, and dragged him off to the bedroom. He put Sören down on the bed and began to undress. Sören started undressing too - hands shaking, watching Maglor get naked, liking what he saw, wanting him - and the minute they were both naked Maglor pounced on him on the bed.  
  
Maglor kissed him deeply, fiercely. The feel of their hard cocks together without any barrier in the way, silken steel, made them both moan into the kiss. Then Maglor stopped kissing Sören and gave him a look.  
  
"You're not a coward," Sören said. "I'm sorry. I said that to piss you off so you'd fight me."  
  
Maglor sighed, and nodded. He gave Sören a little kiss and then he stroked Sören's face and husked, "I did not _intend_ to disrespect you. And I'm sorry that you feel disrespected."  
  
"'I'm sorry that you feel that way' isn't a real apology," Sören said. "I know you don't like being compared to him, but back in the early days of my relationship with Justin, when he _would_ apologize for shit, it was usually like that."  
  
"All right." Maglor exhaled sharply. "I'm sorry I disrespected you."  
  
"Better."  
  
"I'm still not happy about -"  
  
"I know. _I know_ this is hard for you." Sören looked down at their cocks, and Maglor snorted and Sören did too, and after they laughed together they kissed. Then Sören said, "I'm seriously not thinking with my dick about Coldagnir."  
  
"I shouldn't have said that."  
  
"No, you shouldn't. But you did, and well... we blew off some steam together." Sören reached up to touch Maglor's face. "If you can't forgive him, at least promise me you'll leave him alone. Because I mean it, Maglor, I am not going to tolerate being disrespected, being treated like my choices, my decisions, don't really matter. I went through enough of that, and I won't suffer eternity with someone who's going to be like that to me."  
  
"OK." Maglor nodded. "I'm sorry."  
  
They kissed again, and Sören used the Force to get the lube. Sören knew Maglor was aching to drive into Sören and unleash more of his aggression, but Sören wasn't done with the lesson. Sören shoved Maglor onto his back and kissed him hard, and pushed slick fingers into Maglor, finding that spot right away. Maglor gasped, and moaned as Sören's fingers worked in and out of him, rubbing the sweet spot inside him.  
  
"I'm going to fuck you hard," Sören rasped. "Then, if you're a good boy, I might let you do the same to me."  
  
Maglor gave a precious little whimper that went right to Sören's cock. "Ada..."  
  
Sören kissed him again. Sören slicked his own cock, and then he began the descent. The silken heat of Maglor was almost too delicious to stand, and Sören had to rest a minute to keep himself from coming immediately. He took a few slow thrusts, teasing them both, and when he heard Maglor cry out, knowing the bead in the ring in the head of his cock was brushing that spot, Sören hooked Maglor's leg on his shoulder and began to pound him into the mattress, fucking fast and furious.  
  
Even as hard as Sören fucked him, the lingering notes of anger and frustration, there was also sensuality and tenderness, Sören's hands sliding over Maglor's body, Sören admiring the beauty of him, Maglor breathing hard, eyes glazed with desire, moaning and writhing as Sören's cock and fingers pleasured him. Maglor's own hands reached up to caress Sören, and when Maglor played with Sören's nipple rings, Sören bit his lower lip with a shudder, desperately trying to hold back his orgasm.  
  
When Maglor began to rock his hips back at Sören, trying to overtake the rhythm and make Sören fuck him even harder, Sören's hand wrapped around Maglor's hard, throbbing cock, flushed a deep pink and slick with precum. Sören stroked it in time with his thrusts, his free hand playing with Maglor's nipples, making him moan louder, crying out. And at last their eyes met and Maglor gasped, "Ada... Ada please..."  
  
Sören collected some of Maglor's precum onto his finger and shoved it in Maglor's mouth. "Come for me."  
  
Maglor cried out around Sören's finger in his mouth, a desperate whining howl as his body shook, his seed spraying Sören. Two thrusts later Sören was gone, throwing back his head with a sob as he spent into Maglor's pulsing walls, clenching around him, milking him through his orgasm.  
  
Sören came down to kiss him and Maglor seized him and kissed him almost violently; as Sören slipped out of him Maglor used the mess of cum from Sören's cock to slick his own cock and then he pushed into Sören. Now Sören rode him and Maglor grabbed Sören's hips, making Sören buck harder and harder. Maglor growled, and slapped Sören's ass.  
  
"You may have fucked him, but you're still mine," Maglor rasped.  
  
Sören leaned down to kiss him, grabbing Maglor's hair and pulling him up into the kiss. Sören's arms wrapped around him, holding on tight as he continued to bounce on Maglor's cock. When the kiss broke, Maglor began to kiss and lick Sören's neck, making Sören pant and tremble, and then he bit Sören's neck, bit the sweet spot where the neck and shoulder met, bit Sören's shoulder. Sören cried out with each bite, and then Maglor bit Sören's lower lip hard enough to draw blood. Sören shoved Maglor onto his back and gave him the same treatment, biting Maglor's neck, his shoulder, his chest. When Sören nibbled on a nipple, Maglor's nails scratched Sören's back. Sören pulled Maglor's hair again to claim another kiss, just before Maglor bit his neck again. Then Sören bit him back.  
  
Maglor rolled Sören onto his back and grabbed Sören's wrists, pinning him, pounding into him even harder. Sören wrapped his legs around Maglor's waist, moaning as Maglor continued to bite his neck and shoulder, licking between bites. "You're mine," Maglor growled. "Mine. Nobody is going to take you from me again."  
  
"Oh god." Sören shuddered. His cock twinged and the feel of Maglor's cock rubbing inside him almost brought him off right then.  
  
"Mine." Maglor tugged one of Sören's nipple rings with his teeth, suckled the nipple hard, then bit. "Mine." His tongue lashed, soothing where he'd bit while also giving pleasure-pain, the nipple too sensitive.  
  
"More," Sören heard himself pant, completely gone in his lust for Maglor like this.  
  
Maglor gave a hungry growl as he did the same to the other nipple. Then he bit Sören's chest between the nipples, licked where he'd bitten, and nibbled his way up Sören's throat. "Mine," he rasped between bites. "Mine. _Mine._ "  
  
"Oh shit." Sören felt himself getting closer, his balls tightening. "Oh god, oh fuck..."  
  
Maglor gave him a deep, passionate kiss, and reached between them to seize Sören's cock, stroking it hard as he slammed into Sören even harder. And when Maglor ground out "Come," Sören came explosively, screaming and thrashing as he spilled over Maglor's chest. A few seconds later Maglor cried out, "Ada," as he spent deep into Sören, trembling. He thrusted through his climax and crashed onto Sören's chest, shuddering, and gave one last bite before he planted a tender little kiss there.  
  
Sören pet Maglor's hair, smiling as Maglor kneaded and flexed like a contented cat. Then Maglor looked up and smiled at Sören.  
  
"That was fucking hot," Sören admitted. "I hated fighting with you but _goddamn_ that was amazing sex."  
  
"Yes. It was." Maglor kissed him.  
  
Maglor stroked Sören's curls as Sören continued to pet his hair, their legs entwined, snuggling together. "Are you sure you won't be spending the night here?" Maglor gave him a little frown.  
  
Sören nodded. "I'm actually angrier with Nico than I am with you, if you can believe that." He thought about the way Dooku put him in the Force lock, temporarily paralyzing him.  
  
"I think I can believe that." Maglor rolled his eyes. Then he laughed. "God, the more things change..."  
  
"Mhm. Fingolfin and I used to have some real epic battles back in the day. And amazing sex after. I think at least half the time we were just trying to goad each other into the hard, aggressive sex we'd have later. 'I hate you' was something of a mating call." Sören couldn't resist. "Which is not like anything we've ever seen before. Especially not you and your boyfriend."  
  
Maglor narrowed his eyes. " _He is not my boyfriend._ "  
  
Sören patted his head. "Sure, Maglor."  
  
Then Maglor sighed. "I hope he's OK."  
  
"Who? Van?"  
  
"Yeah." Maglor frowned. "It's worrisome that he didn't come back with Coldagnir and Edenel, like he's deliberately avoiding us."  
  
Sören sighed too. "It is." He snickered. "Sounds like you do care."  
  
"Well..." Maglor rolled his eyes. "He went to a lot of trouble for us."  
  
"You love him."  
  
"Shut up."  
  
Sören snorted and howled. "You do."  
  
"I didn't _say that_."  
  
"Not in those words."  
  
Maglor used the Force to pick up Sören's clothes off the floor and throw them at him. "Get thee gone," Maglor said.  
  
Sören snorted again, and then Maglor facepalmed and Sören saw him shaking with silent laughter, beetroot. "Dammit, Ada," Maglor said.  
  
"Maglor and Van, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-"  
  
"FUCK YOU," Maglor said, not unkindly.  
  
"We just did that."


	23. Nothing Else Matters

**Nothing Else Matters**

  
  
  
Sören's weekend with Coldagnir and Edenel at the hotel was almost like a mini-vacation. On Saturday, Sören took them sightseeing in Akureyri, and then they went sledding together in the late afternoon as the sun set. On Sunday they slept in, and in the early evening the three went to the Nature Baths at Lake Mývatn, where they saw the aurora as they cuddled together in the hot spring, drinking champagne.  
  
The weekend away helped Sören get in the right frame of mind for actually talking to Dooku calmly and rationally about what happened, rather than snarl at him in Icelandic. Yet Sören still felt apprehensive as he rode in the jeep with Coldagnir and Edenel on the afternoon of Monday the sixteenth.  
  
Maglor was waiting for them outside when they arrived, as Sören had called him when they were on their way. Maglor did not look at Coldagnir when he got out of the jeep, but turned to Edenel, who put an arm around him and led him out to the jeep Maglor and Dooku drove, Edenel getting in the passenger's seat as Maglor got in the driver's seat. Sören gave a wave before he took Coldagnir's hand and led him inside.  
  
Dooku was sitting on the couch with the tea service ready for them. He tried to keep his expression neutral but his eyes and eyebrows betrayed him when Coldagnir walked in beside Sören.  
  
Coldagnir sat in the armchair, and Sören sat next to Dooku on the couch. Dooku quietly fixed Sören's tea the way he liked it and used the Force to pass him a cup. Then Dooku leaned back on the couch with his own tea, making it clear he wasn't going to fix a cup for Coldagnir. Sören's nostrils flared and he asked his guest, "How do you take your tea?"  
  
"Two sugars, no milk."  
  
Sören put two lumps of sugar in Coldagnir's cup and used the Force to pass it to him, then he glared at Dooku disapprovingly, who simply raised an eyebrow as he sipped his tea.  
  
"All right." Sören exhaled sharply. "Nico, I'm just going to be blunt. I'm not happy with what happened on Thursday."  
  
Dooku said nothing, waiting for Sören to go on.  
  
"I'll tell you the same thing I told Maglor - you guys talked a good game about 'let Sören decide, that's what's fair', then when I actually decided, you guys decided you didn't care. You didn't beat up Coldagnir yourself, but what you did pissed me off even more than what Maglor did - I tried to stop him and you used the Force to restrain me. That was, in my opinion, even more disrespectful than what Maglor did. And just like I said to Maglor, that raises a red flag. We've been together now for three years, since 2017, and this is the first time since then that you've ever crossed a line with me, other than that period of a few months where you and I were broken up because you thought you were too old and thought it would be better if I hated you instead of trying to argue against it. But it is a red flag, and regardless of our past history, here and now, if you keep disrespecting me like you did on Thursday, I'm fucking done. I've been through enough shit in my life without going through it yet again with a partner. If you _truly_ love me and care for me, then you need to respect my decision like you said you would. That means no more of this shit with anyone trying to beat up Coldagnir, or enabling him to be beat up."  
  
Sören sipped his tea, and waited for Dooku to react. Dooku was quiet - too quiet - but at last he said, "I apologize." Their eyes met. "I am still angry about -"  
  
"I know. Nobody is asking you to stop being angry - I of all people understand feelings don't run on an on/off switch. I'm asking you to control your behavior, not your emotions. Which means don't go out of your way to be shitty. Respect that I forgave him, even if you can't forgive him yourself. Respect that he took an oath to me, and I have heard that oath. You should understand the importance of an oath, considering our own to each other so long ago. When you shit all over the oath he took, you're shitting all over that oath, too."  
  
Dooku's nostrils flared. "Beloved, I think that is rather a bit of reaching, and I must respectfully dissent. There is quite a lot of difference between our secret marriage vows in the First Age, and someone who owes you a life debt. _Quite_."  
  
"Jesus Christ." Sören facepalmed. "It's the principle. It's the spirit of the law. You were a barrister, you should understand that."  
  
Dooku sipped his tea. "I will accede to your request that I refrain from violence against Coldagnir, whether directly or indirectly by assisting that of others. That is the best I can do, with the emotions I have."  
  
"OK. We're not done yet."  
  
"No," Dooku said, making a face. "I thought not."  
  
Sören pinched the bridge of his nose. He sipped his tea and then he said to Dooku, "That thing you did on Thursday? Force paralysis or whatever the fuck it was? That was not cool. At all. You know my history with Justin Roberts, you know he restrained me against my will, and I'm not saying you're like him or that what you did was the same thing but it still. Fucking. _Triggered._ Me."  
  
Dooku winced as if in pain. Dooku closed his eyes, and when he opened them his eyes were full of sorrow. He looked tired all of a sudden. Their eyes met, and Sören saw the tears in Dooku's eyes, felt the ache across their Force bond, Dooku's grief for what Sören had endured at Justin's hands, his regret for doing anything that reminded Sören of those dark days. He put a hand on Sören's knee.  
  
But Sören wasn't ready to absolve him of his guilt yet; he really wanted to hammer home how much this hurt. "It would have been bad enough on its own, but you doing it to me in the context of me asking for a thing to stop that I wasn't OK with? My consent issues are being hit here."  
  
"I'm sorry," Dooku said softly. "If there is anything I can do -"  
  
"We can't change the past." Sören shook his head. "But going forward - you will _not_ do that to me again, unless we're sparring - and even then, I'd prefer you not do that when we're sparring. _That_ crossed a line, as much as you disrespecting my decision."  
  
"I'm sorry," Dooku said again, swallowing. "As soon as it happened..." He winced again, not able to finish that train of thought. "I was taking some vicarious satisfaction in watching Maglor lash out. Losing you was..." He blinked, and silent tears slid down his cheeks. "I wasn't thinking, and -"  
  
"No, you weren't. But now you're damn well going to think before you react because if it happens a second time, I'm fucking _gone_." Sören narrowed his eyes. "I mean it. I'm not going to spend eternity being triggered because you have to wave your dick around over something that happened fifteen thousand years ago."  
  
Dooku glared now. "You needn't refer to me reacting in pain to a very deep and still raw, festering wound being struck as _that_ , Sören."  
  
"That's exactly what it was, Nico. I'm not going to couch it in polite, flowery terms. You and Maglor can do that he-man shit with someone else."  
  
Dooku pinched the bridge of his nose, let out a sharp exhale, and then he said, "Well, there won't be a second time." With a tired half-smile that did not meet his eyes, Dooku kissed Sören's cheek. Then he glanced over at Coldagnir, and back at Sören. "Is there a reason why you brought him here, to see our dirty laundry?"  
  
"Jæja, it involves him?" Sören felt that flare of annoyance intensifying. "But also, he has something to tell you -"  
  
Dooku held up his hand. "It is enough that I told you I will not interfere with the oath. That is as far as this goes for me. You forgave him, but that doesn't mean I have to. I have nothing to say to him, and he has nothing to say that I want to hear -"  
  
"Nico, just hear him out -"  
  
"No."  
  
"Please."  
  
"Shan't." Dooku put his tea down and got up.  
  
"Nicolae," Coldagnir spoke.  
  
Dooku whirled around, looking angry enough to kill. "What part of _do not speak to me_ do you not understand, _murderer_?" With that, Dooku continued walking down the hall, and ducked into the bathroom.  
  
Sören buried his face in his hands, feeling his stomach sinking. Coldagnir patted him.  
  
"I'm going to go," Coldagnir said.  
  
"Take me with you -"  
  
"No. The two of you need to work this out between you. I'll come back another time."  
  
They quickly embraced, and Coldagnir left. Then Sören went down the hall and waited for Dooku outside the bathroom door. As soon as Dooku stepped out of the bathroom, Sören shoved him against the sink counter.  
  
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Sören shouted.  
  
Dooku blinked. "I beg your pardon."  
  
"Did you not hear _any_ of what I said to you in the living room or did it go in one ear and out the fucking other?"  
  
"You asked me not to attack him or allow someone else, like Macalaurë, to attack him. I agreed to that. Your decision was to let him live. You told me yourself in there that I don't have to forgive him, and you're right. I don't. I _shan't._ He killed you. He took away the most precious, beautiful thing in my life -"  
  
"Well, now you're about to take it away your own damn self," Sören snarled, "by being a passive-aggressive _twat._ I told you to not go out of your way to be shitty. You were _shitty as fuck_ in there. There is something that Coldagnir was about to tell you - something that actually factored _very strongly_ into my decision to forgive him, to pardon him, that I was going to let him explain to you because I think you, of all people, need to hear it. I _asked_ you to hear him out. But you being all like _'shan't'_ -" Sören lowered his voice in an imitation of Dooku's own. "Well, there you go disrespecting my decision _yet fucking again_. I can't _fucking_ believe this."  
  
"I can't believe you forgave him," Dooku said. "What happened to that fight in you, Fëanáro? What happened to your principles -"  
  
" _The ascended version of me, the one that version of Coldagnir helped Gothmog to kill, forgave him._ " Sören threw his hands in the air. Then he folded his ams, glaring. "As far as fight, principles... I don't know, you tell me, you were a criminal defense barrister for decades. Coldagnir was not himself. If he had been human, his lawyer would probably try to get him off on a temporary insanity charge. That's _literally what happened._ And what happened to him was a result of him going in trying to _fight_ Morgoth, for fuck's sake. He's on our side -"  
  
" _He still killed you._ " Dooku's eyes flashed, his brow furrowed. The look of ire on Dooku's face was, to Sören, dangerously sexy, just like Sören had gotten aroused on Friday by Maglor's angry expression. As upset as Sören was, his stomach fluttered, heart skipping a beat, cock twinging at Dooku's anger, the power in his well-cultured basso. "I am maintaining civility as best as I can, knowing what he did to you, how you died, what was taken from me, what was taken from _all of us_ that day. How much I suffered after you were gone. Kanafinwë and Nelyafinwë suffered _a great deal_ , doubtless the rest of your children. Edenel tells me that this world's Arafinwë died in the War of the Ring -"  
  
"I told that idiot to stay put in Valinor."  
  
"You did. Does anyone in this family ever listen to anyone?"  
  
Sören would have laughed at that if he wasn't so angry, and now felt an additional stab of pain at knowing how Finarfin had died.  
  
Dooku went on, "And I've no doubt that _his_ grief at losing _both_ his brothers caught up with him, which is why he finally left Valinor to make that last stand. So that's more blood on Coldagnir's hands as well. Maybe you have pardoned him - you have a good heart. A gentle heart. But for me, the very best I can do is agree that was your decision, and stay out of his way. If I had let him talk in there, I would have been tempted to do violence to him myself -"  
  
"You don't even know what he was going to say, and it's like I told you, he has something to tell you that might -"  
  
"There is _nothing_ he could say to me that would make me unsee the monster that _took my beloved Fëanáro's life._ If you find that disrespectful of your decision, I don't know what to tell you. I am done discussing it, we are now getting into 'beating a dead horse' territory."  
  
Sören stepped aside. Dooku left the bathroom, and headed back towards the living room. Before Dooku could sit down, Sören called from the hallway, "Nico?"  
  
"Hm?" Dooku looked over his shoulder.  
  
"Let's get one thing absolutely fucking straight." Sören used the Force to pull his sword over from the sword rack. "I do not have a gentle heart."  
  
  
_  
  
  
Unlike Maglor and Sören duelling from the living room into the kitchen before taking it outside, Sören and Dooku took their swords into the yard. Dooku even gave Sören a proper fencing salute before the duel began.  
  
Sören went on the offense. Dooku parried and made a riposte - a feint, seeming to go after one of Sören's knees only to evade the block and almost hit the other. Sören dodged just in time and lunged again; Dooku blocked before Sören's blade could touch his arm.  
  
Back and forth they danced. While Maglor was all raw power and aggression, Dooku was a classical fencer - agility, grace, elegance. Time and time again he used feints against Sören that he only blocked or dodged just in the nick of time, even as Sören knew what to expect from his fencing style. And Dooku was quick, able to outmaneuver Sören and lash back almost immediately. Dooku was harder to keep up with, and it didn't help matters that Dooku actually seemed to be enjoying himself, a predatory little smile on his face, a twinkle in his eye.  
  
Which made Sören's anger burn all the hotter. Dooku wasn't even upset they were fighting like this, as Maglor had been. Sören could feel Dooku's lust for watching Sören burn with fury like this, finally snapping out of his depression and coming alive, the life force in him building with each swing of his sword. And Sören hated how sexy he found Dooku right now, dashing and suave, how much watching Dooku wield his sword so effortlessly heated his blood and made him _want_ to be taken, fucked.  
  
"You're a _twat_ ," Sören snarled as he swung for Dooku's stomach.  
  
Dooku parried. "Come, come now. You already called me that once today. Surely you have more words in your vocabulary?"  
  
" _Þú ert rassgat._ "  
  
Dooku rolled his eyes and chuckled. "Well, that's better than you calling me a thot, I suppose. As you know, I hate that word -"  
  
" _Þú ert fokking sjálfsmjúkur, upp eigin rass, basta og ég hata hversu fokking aðlaðandi þú ert._ "  
  
Sören could see the bulge in Dooku's trousers as Sören snapped at him in Icelandic. _Good, I can use that._ Sören moved in closer, even though it was more dangerous this way. He had to parry immediately as Dooku's sword closed in, and again. Sören made a riposte and Dooku blocked, then Dooku's own riposte grazed Sören's shoulder before Sören's sword pushed his away. Sören swung at Dooku's stomach, and Dooku dodged, then again as Sören went lower, for his hip. Dooku's own sword almost got Sören's arm, Sören wrenching back.  
  
" _Mun setja þig á þinn stað, snobbaður, heilagri en þú..._ "  
  
Dooku's eyes flashed and Sören watched the bulge harden some more - taking his eyes off Dooku's fencing sword for just a second was almost lethal, it coming right at his chest. Sören parried, and then he made a feint - going for Dooku's crotch, and then his stomach; Dooku blocked and made a feint of his own, going for Sören's shoulder and then his arm. Sören dodged and gave Dooku a look of pure ire, both sincere and because he knew it would get Dooku even more aroused. Sören tried to pull with the Force to take Dooku's sword out of his hand, but it was harder to use the Force when their minds were occupied with the play of their blades, acting and reacting, and Dooku pushed back at Sören with the Force, hard enough that Sören himself was shoved, stumbling back a foot. Dooku lunged forward and made a feint for Sören's shoulder, going for his heart again. Sören parried and tried to pull with the Force again, harder this time - this was his gambit. As soon as Dooku pushed back, Sören pushed against him and made a feint, going for Dooku's heart and then his throat, the tip of his blade touching Dooku's throat before he could parry.  
  
"Well, well." Dooku gave Sören another salute before dropping his sword, and then he clapped slowly. "Just like old times -'  
  
Sören fell on him, kissing him roughly. He began to shove Dooku inside, kissing him feverishly, hungrily. They started to shed their clothing right there in the kitchen, clothes strewn haphazardly across the floor as they made their way from the kitchen to the living room. Dooku slammed Sören against the living room wall and gave him a look of pure desire before claiming Sören's mouth again, their hard cocks rubbing together, Sören's hands sliding over the silver-haired chest, Dooku's hands on Sören's shoulders, in his curls.  
  
Then Sören grabbed Dooku's hands and yanked him along to the bedroom. Sören got on the bed on all fours, wiggling his ass at Dooku teasingly. Dooku used the Force to get the lube and got on his knees behind Sören, hard cock gliding in the crack of Sören's ass, making Sören's hole twitch, his cock throb, needing. But Sören wasn't entirely done with today's lesson. He bucked back at Dooku with as much strength as he could muster, shoving him, and fell on top of him. Then Sören quickly rolled, pinning Dooku. He used the Force to open the bedtable and produce a set of silk scarves they kept there, and held Dooku's wrists down.  
  
"Do you consent?" Sören rasped.  
  
Usually it was Sören who was submissive and Dooku or Maglor who was dominant, when they played like this. But now Dooku nodded, swallowing hard. "Yes."  
  
Sören used the Force to tie Dooku's wrists to the headboard, and smiled as he looked down to watch Dooku's cock jolt, a bead of precum starting to drip from the slit. "Oh my." Sören licked his lips. "Somebody likes this."  
  
"I like seeing the fire in your eyes." Their eyes met. "I like _feeling_ that fire, after you have been lost in the fog for so long." Dooku touched Sören with the Force - a caress, from Sören's heart to his cheek. "I love you."  
  
"You're still a twat, Ñolofinwë."  
  
Sören got up from the bed - Dooku gave him a pleading look and made a little noise of protest as Sören walked away, leaving him tied there. Sören sauntered down to the kitchen and produced a sharp knife. It wasn't as sexy as a dagger but it would do. He twirled it around in his hand on the way down to the bedroom and then hid it behind his back as he walked back in.  
  
"Oh thank god. I thought you were going to leave me here -"  
  
"Oh, that's a great idea," Sören teased, pretending to walk out again. At the aghast look on Dooku's face he laughed, and then he got back on the bed, still keeping the knife behind his back. "No, Nico, I wouldn't do that. You know why?"  
  
"Why."  
  
Sören produced the knife and held it to Dooku's throat. "Because I would never hurt you intentionally."  
  
Dooku's breath hitched. Sören smirked as he watched Dooku's cock jolt again, more precum dripping down the head.  
  
"That's what it comes down to, isn't it? The oath we made to each other so long ago." Sören began to slide the knife up and down Dooku's throat, letting him feel the sharp tip of the blade, enough to bite, not enough to draw blood. "When you didn't respect my decision, like I was doing something that would hurt all of us - that was a lack of trust. But you know that deep down, you do trust me." Sören slid the knife down again, this time to Dooku's heart, pressing the blade harder. He nicked, deliberately drawing a little blood, and then he leaned down to lick the blood that flowed, tasting the metallic tang. Dooku gasped, shivered. "You know I've been careful with you, and that's why I get to see past that cold, professional exterior to the warm, soft, gooey heart. I made you laugh, years ago. I taught you to have fun for the first time in your life." Sören cut Dooku's flesh over his heart again, lapped the blood. "You will see past this wound to the truth of your heart - that you trust me."  
  
The blade "accidentally" grazed a nipple, and traced around. Dooku moaned, and again, louder, as Sören's tongue followed the wake of the blade. Then Sören did the same to the other nipple, the tip of the blade biting, Sören's tongue soothing. The blade went back to the center of Dooku's chest and dragged up his throat, stinging, and then down, making tiny cuts, Sören's tongue licking each one. Sören traced the definition in Dooku's stomach with the knife, made little cuts here and there, lapping the blood. He made long scratches down each thigh that his tongue slid over, and then the knife dragged its way up, scraping, Sören kissing his way up.  
  
When the knife was at Dooku's throat again, Sören held it there and scooted down the length of Dooku's body, until his head was between Dooku's legs. He licked Dooku's cock from the head down the shaft and back up, tracing every vein with his tongue, lashing and lashing, at last taking Dooku's cock into his mouth and sucking slowly, his own cock throbbing, aching with Dooku's sighs and moans. Soon Dooku's moans got louder, breathing harder. "Sören..."  
  
"Mmmmmmmmmmm." Sören took Dooku's cock out of his mouth to lick it again. "I will lead and you will follow, right, Ñolo?"  
  
"Oh _god._ " Dooku's eyes glazed as Sören continued licking his cock; Dooku gave a ragged groan and a shuddery sigh as Sören chased precum with his tongue. Sören smiled as he felt Dooku pulse against his tongue.  
  
Sören continued to keep the knife at Dooku's throat and licked and sucked his cock slowly as long as Dooku could stand it. When Dooku began pleading "Sören, please," but otherwise couldn't articulate what he wanted, Sören felt even more evil. Now he moved the blade to Dooku's chest, dragging it back and forth between Dooku's nipples, over his heart, as Sören's tongue played inside him, rubbing against that sweet spot in him, until Dooku was rolling his hips, fucking himself on Sören's tongue, panting, his cries of "please, Sören, Fëanáro, _please_ " more insistent.  
  
With an exaggerated sigh, Sören finally relented. He kept the knife at Dooku's chest as he used the Force to pour lube over his cock and stroked himself, Dooku watching with hungry eyes. Then Sören guided his cock to Dooku's channel and began to push inside, slowly. Dooku pushed out and Sören gasped - so tight. They both cried out when Sören bottomed out inside him, possessing him to the hilt, and then Sören stole a deep, passionate kiss, bringing the blade to Dooku's throat once more.  
  
"I love you," Sören said, and kissed Dooku again.  
  
Sören thrust into him slowly, kissing him over and over, the knife to Dooku's throat. Dooku rolled his hips back at Sören, panting between kisses, moaning into each kiss, Sören responding with moans of his own. Dooku felt so good around him, tight hot and slick, and it took Sören everything he had to keep it slow, not pound into him, teasing them both. He loved watching Dooku more and more undone, losing that iron control, his eyes wild and feverish, making undignified animal noises as the bead in the ring of Sören's cock stroked his sweet spot again and again, as Sören's hand gripped his cock and pleasured it slowly, as the knife slid up and down Dooku's throat, and between kisses Sören licked, nibbled Dooku's neck, moved down to lap and suckle the hard nipples, tongue laving the silver chest hair.  
  
"My Ñolofinwë." Sören collected some of Dooku's precum on his fingers and tasted it, Dooku making another primal grunt as he watched Sören suck his fingers. Then Sören stole another kiss, the blade biting a little harder. "See... everything works out, doesn't it, brother in heart?"  
  
"Sören." Their eyes met, and Dooku spoke to him in his native language. " _Eldblómið mitt. Þú ert hinn helmingurinn af sál minni._ "  
  
The words went straight to Sören's heart - and his cock. With a deep, devouring kiss and a growl, Sören began to drive into him, hard and fast. Then harder and faster still, hooking one of Dooku's legs on his shoulders, balls slapping against him. Dooku cried out and Sören groaned, shivering at the too-delicious feel of the passage wrapped around him, kissing his cock. He wasn't going to last long like this - neither of them were. He could feel Dooku on that desperate, frantic edge, pleasure in him building with every stroke Sören took inside him, every stroke of Sören's hand on his cock. And Sören's own pleasure rose, fueled by the lust of seeing Dooku completely given over to his passion, surrendering to the fire that burned so deep in them both, twin flames.  
  
"Sören." Their eyes locked. "Sören..."  
  
"Yes." Sören held the knife to Dooku's throat still and leaned in to seize another kiss. " _Bróðir minn. Eldur stjarnanna. Treystu mér, treystu þessu, ekki láta mig vona allt sjálfur. Taktu þessa ferð með mér..._ "  
  
"Sören. _Sören_..."  
  
Sören could feel him _right there_ across their bond. He cut Dooku's throat - not enough to seriously wound, just enough to draw blood. He licked the blood that flowed and then he kissed Dooku, hearing his lover cry out into the kiss as he tasted his blood on Sören's tongue. Sören cried out too, and Dooku pulled back and gasped for breath. "Sören, I need -"  
  
"Yes, _ástin mín_. Come with me."  
  
They came together, Dooku with a hoarse shout and Sören with a howling cry as Dooku's inner walls throbbed around him and Sören blasted into him, shuddering, panting, feeling like he was melting into Dooku. Dooku gave a softer moan, trembling as his seed spilled over Sören's hand.  
  
Sören licked his hand clean and kissed Dooku. He used the Force to untie Dooku's wrists and Dooku's arms went around Sören, holding him tight.  
  
Sören rained little kisses over Dooku's face, smiling. "Mmmm, that was fun -"  
  
The knife hurled up from the bed and against Sören's throat. Dooku rolled Sören onto his back and now his hand held the hilt of the knife. Dooku leaned over Sören and looked into Sören's eyes. "What were you saying about trust now, Fëanáro?"  
  
Sören's cock shot right up again, hole twitching at the hungry look on Dooku's face, like a wolf presented with a very tasty meal. "Shut up and fuck me," Sören husked.  
  
Dooku laughed softly and kissed Sören, using the Force to pour lube over his cock. Then he pushed into Sören.  
  
Unlike his usual slow, sensual build to a powerful finish, Dooku pounded into Sören right away, keeping the knife at Sören's throat, Sören's leg on his shoulder. "I had a momentary lapse in judgment... but you trust me too, don't you?"  
  
"Yes." Sören remembered the way he'd given himself to Dooku three years ago, the first time he'd really _made love_ after Justin Roberts. He'd felt so safe with him. Before Thursday, he'd still felt safe.  
  
"I love you, Sören. Fëanáro. My fire. My light." Dooku leaned down to kiss Sören again, stroking Sören's face with his free hand, looking into Sören's eyes. "Flesh of my flesh." He cut over Sören's heart. "Blood of my blood." He lapped the blood that flowed and kissed Sören deeply.  
  
Sören was so overcome by emotion and sensation that he climaxed, howling into the kiss. A few savage thrusts later Dooku came too, giving a cry as he spent into him. Then he rested on Sören, the knife at last put away. When they caught their breath they looked at each other and laughed.  
  
"Are we OK now?" Dooku asked.  
  
"We'll be OK if you can abide by what I said earlier. Seriously. It's not that hard to not be a dick to the sun god guy."  
  
Dooku sighed, but he nodded. "I didn't mean to hurt you, Sören." He frowned. "It hurt so much to lose you, back then, and after the Dagorath..." Dooku closed his eyes. "I fear you'll be taken from me again, somehow."  
  
"Oh, Nico." Sören patted him. "That's understandable. But please, just... let's not give each other any more problems than what we've already got, OK?" Sören snorted. "Even if the makeup sex is really fucking hot."  
  
Dooku smiled. "Even when we don't fight, I'm insatiable for you."  
  
"Hi Insatiable For You -"  
  
Dooku gave Sören a swat, then a kiss, and then, his lips grazing Sören's jaw, he husked, "You want to go again?"  
  
Sören giggled, and gave Dooku a playful little shove, then rolled Dooku onto his back and kissed him hard. He straddled Dooku's hips and sank down, both of them groaning when Dooku was buried inside.  
  
Dooku slapped Sören's ass. "You're such a brat."  
  
" _Takk._ " Sören crinkled his nose and bit his lower lip, and let out a cry as Dooku grabbed Sören's hips and thrust into him harder, Sören bucking wildly.


	24. Shadows Taller Than Our Soul

**Shadows Taller Than Our Soul**

  
  
  
After the cathartic sex with Dooku on Monday, it cleared the air enough for Sören to feel OK being at home again. Edenel came back on Tuesday, and though Sören wasn't quite ready to make art again, he was ready to do something other than sit in a blanket heap and zone out to TV. He spent Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday giving Edenel another tour of Akureyri, going sledding with Maglor and Edenel on Thursday. When they got back on Thursday night Sören felt like making a snowman, and Maglor joined in. Sören didn't want to make just any generic snowman, but he decided he wanted to make a snow-gnome, and then, feeling impish, he decided to make the snow-gnome look like a mini-Dooku. Dooku came out to announce dinner was ready and when he saw Sören and Maglor building a snow-gnome together he smiled fondly, getting choked up.  
  
"You're adorable," Dooku husked when Sören got in, kissing his cheek.  
  
"So are you." Sören kissed the tip of his nose.  
  
Dooku glared. "I am not adorable."  
  
"Hi Not Adorable -"  
  
Edenel smiled. "Well, things appear to be getting back to normal, or as normal as they ever get around here."  
  
Dinner was from Dooku's Romanian heritage - _ciulama de pui_ , with _papanași_ for dessert. Sören always loved it when Dooku made Romanian food, and tonight he complimented it profusely, making Dooku blush. Finally Dooku patted him and said, "As you know, your birthday is coming up soon. I can make something for your birthday dinner, or we can go out for your birthday -"  
  
"Oh god." Sören facepalmed. It was the nineteenth and his birthday was on the twenty-fifth, less than a week away. He'd been so lost in the chaos this month that he'd almost forgotten about his own birthday. "Er."  
  
Dooku sipped his wine, waiting.  
  
Sören rubbed his beard. He thought about when he'd taken Dooku to Iceland in November 2017, the way they'd made love for the first time. "I know this isn't super fancy, but can we do Serrano? _As you know_ , that's where we went to dinner before the first time we..."  
  
Dooku's cheeks flushed pink and his eyes twinkled. He gave a little smile at the memory and reached out to put his hand on top of Sören's. "We can do that, sweetheart." Then he gave Sören a stern look. "But I insist on baking you a cake, at least."  
  
"Oh, that goes without saying." Sören nodded. "Can I have a lemon cake -"  
  
"May I have a lemon cake."  
  
Sören narrowed his eyes and Dooku kicked him under the table, smirking into his wine. " _May you_ not be such a twat about grammar," Sören said, making Maglor chuckle - Dooku shot Maglor a look and Maglor gave him a guilty grin, then leaned on one elbow, watching the banter play out with interest.  
  
"Topped with strawberries." Sören crinkled his nose and bit his lower lip.  
  
"I think that can be arranged," Dooku said.  
  
"Now," Maglor said, "what do you want for your birthday?"  
  
Sören facepalmed again, and then he shrugged. "I haven't thought about it. I think I just want to do something nice and relaxing with you guys, I don't really need things." He groaned, remembering London in 2017 when Dooku gave him the Vespa scooter that Sören ended up returning when they broke up, albeit temporarily. Then Sören smiled as he thought of his twin brother. "Dag and I have a yearly tradition of not getting each other anything. We routinely got nothing on our birthdays, not even a cake, when we lived with our aunt and uncle. And Dag and I couldn't afford to get each other anything. But when we were twelve, and somebody in our class asked us what we'd gotten each other - in a really snide, snotty way, she was making fun of us for being poor - Dag said..." Sören shook with silent laughter. "Dag was always doing these science experiments or he had his nose in a book, and he said..." Sören laughed again, remembering. "He claimed that my present was made of _dark matter_ , so I had this invisible bicycle... nobody could see it. The look on her _face_. She actually _believed him._ "  
  
Maglor put down his wine, face red, tearing up with laughter. "Oh, Finrod."  
  
"And then I said that I'd gotten his present enchanted by the _huldufólk_ so nobody but him could see it, and that way nobody could steal it. Which in hindsight..." Sören shook his head.  
  
"Yes, that is _rather interesting_ in hindsight," Dooku said.  
  
"So since then, we've given each other invisible presents and they get more and more outlandish by the year. Last year I got him an invisible dinosaur, cos, like, all this talk of alternate universes and fictional characters being real, maybe there's a world where humans _do_ live side-by-side with certain kinds of dinosaurs, like in the Flintstones. Maybe not, but it's fun to think about. Anyway, Dag now has an invisible pterodacyl named Snorri."  
  
"Oh my _god._ " Maglor howled and clapped appreciatively.  
  
"And last year he got me Björk's swan dress - he 'borrowed' it, but he had to make it invisible so I won't get arrested for having stolen property."  
  
"That's even worse considering his father..." Maglor's voice trailed off.  
  
At the reminder of Finarfin, Sören sighed, looking down. _That's what I really want for my birthday, is to find Ara._ He didn't say it aloud, but when his eyes met Maglor's, he knew Maglor picked up the broadcast; Maglor reached across the table to rub Sören's arm.  
  
After dinner Sören sat in front of the fireplace with hot cocoa and the three cats, purring in a choir around him. He used the Force to get his cell phone and he sent his twin a text message.  
  
 _Your present is on its way._  
  
Dag replied five minutes later with: _So's yours._  
  
 _Can I spoil your surprise?_ Sören texted.  
  
 _Go for it._  
  
Sören thought for a minute, stroking his chin, wondering how he could outdo Snorri the pterodactyl. Then it came to him. _You're getting an invisible unicorn._  
  
Dag sent back a string of rainbow emojis.  
  
Then a minute later Dag texted back _I got you an invisible yacht. So now you can have parties with all your posh friends._  
  
 _I have one posh friend and I haven't seen him in a long time._ Sören sighed, missing Van.  
  
 _Well, maybe you'll make another posh friend. Anyway, now you have a yacht to do entertaining._  
  
Sören sent back a heart emoji.  
  
Just before Sören could send his phone back to the coffee table, it rang. Sören would have thought it was Dag except it wasn't "Immigrant Song", his ringtone for his twin - which he'd chosen because of the Vikings having made it to Canada, where Dag now lived - but "Pretty Vacant" by the Sex Pistols, his ringtone for his sister, who liked punk rock. Sören answered it right away. "Hej, Margrét."  
  
"Sören. How have things been?"  
  
"Rough," Sören admitted, "but starting to get better, I think."  
  
"I'm glad they're getting better."  
  
Sören looked at the clock. "You open the bar soon, right?"  
  
"I'm getting ready right now, but I wanted to call you on my way out." A pause. "Frankie and I are coming up to Akureyri tomorrow."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"I'm taking the night off, Bjarki is covering for me, but we're going back on Saturday."  
  
"So does that mean..."  
  
"Já, we decided." Margrét exhaled sharply. "We're going to bring Kol back to Reykjavik with us."  
  
"Good. I... ah. I decided to forgive him."  
  
Margrét breathed a sigh of relief. "That's... good. Fuck. That's one less worry."  
  
"I can't speak for Alejandro and Nico," Sören said, careful to use Maglor's alias on the phone, "but they've agreed to, ah, not be shitty to Kol."  
  
"OK. Well, that's a relief not just in and of itself, but there's an additional reason why we're coming up tomorrow."  
  
Sören felt his stomach sinking. He hadn't been wanting to think about it. "Já, I..."  
  
"Já. Thirty years."  
  
Tomorrow, November twentieth, would be the thirty-year anniversary of their mother's death. Sören swallowed hard. "So I take it you want to go out to the cemetery, visit Mamma's headstone..."  
  
"That's the plan. You don't have to come if it's going to be too much for you -"  
  
"No, I." Sören blinked back tears. "It wouldn't feel right to not..." He couldn't finish the sentence. "We'll go together. We'll have a bit of a private memorial service, I guess."  
  
"It would help, to have everyone there. I mean, I know Dag can't be there..." A wistful sigh. "But you and the others..."  
  
"I'll tell Alejandro and Nico and Eden what's going on. I assume Kol already knows?"  
  
"Já, I called him just before I called you to let him know we're coming up."  
  
"OK. What time are you guys flying in?"  
  
"We should be in Akureyri by one PM. I'd take an earlier flight but I do have to work tonight which means a late night and I don't want to already be physically worn down when I'm doing something so emotional."  
  
"I understand. Is Kol picking you guys up at the airport?"  
  
"Já. Do you guys want to just meet us at the cemetery? Then maybe we'll all go out to eat or something."  
  
"That works, I think."  
  
"OK. I'll see you tomorrow."  
  
"OK. Love you."  
  
"Love you."  
  
The tears Sören had been holding back finally rolled down his cheeks when the call ended. Dooku came over to him and put an arm around him. "Sören, sweetheart, are you all right?"  
  
Sören nodded.  
  
Dooku gave him a concerned look. "Is Margrét all right?"  
  
Sören nodded again. Edenel and Maglor got in the door, back from walking Huan. Huan went right over to Sören, climbed on him, and started licking his face.  
  
"Hey," Maglor said. "What's wrong, love?"  
  
Sören took a deep breath. "Margrét and Frankie are coming up tomorrow."  
  
"They've reached a verdict with -"  
  
"Já, they've forgiven Coldagnir and they're taking him back to Reykjavik... on Saturday. That's not what's upsetting me." Sören closed his eyes, trying to pull himself together. "Tomorrow's the thirty-year anniversary of Mamma's death. So we want to hold a little memorial service at her headstone." Sören's eyes met Maglor's. "We'd like it if everyone could be there. Which means the three of you, since you all are family... that also means Coldagnir is going to be there. Please, _please_ be _civil_. No bullshit. It's going to be hard enough -"  
  
"I understand." Maglor nodded, and so did Dooku.  
  
Sören let out a little sob. Now Maglor, Edenel and Dooku were all holding him, rocking him, petting him. "God, I don't want to be a wreck like this right now."  
  
"Would you like to relax in the hot tub?" Dooku asked.  
  
That was what they did, the four of them sitting in the hot tub, sipping wine and looking up at the night sky. Sören reflected on how it was a far cry from his childhood - the poverty he was thrown into with his alcoholic guardians after his mother's death. He would have never thought, not even a few years ago, that he'd be regularly lounging in a hot tub, and have a reserve of millions in offshore bank accounts.  
  
He would have never thought immortality was possible, either. He closed his eyes, feeling a sting of sorrow that there was no way to undo the past without breaking the present, no way to save his mamma.  
  
His eyes met Maglor's when they opened. He knew that as much grief as he was in, it was a fraction of Maglor's own grief at watching his family fall, one by one, and carrying that with him all this time. When they got out of the hot tub, Sören gave Maglor a tight, fierce hug.  
  
Maglor kissed Sören's brow, stroked his face. "If the people we love are taken from us, the way they live on is to never stop loving them. Buildings burn, people die, but real love is forever."  
  
"That's deep," Sören said.  
  
Maglor smirked. "I stole that quote from _The Crow_ , but it works." Maglor rocked Sören a little, nose rubbing in his curls. "I carried my family's memories in the Song. You've made art of your mamma before. Maybe..."  
  
Sören sighed and nodded. His art was still a sore subject - he was less pessimistic about it than he was before, since Coldagnir and Edenel had done that ritual with him, but he wasn't ready to try yet.  
  
Yet.  
  
  
_  
  
  
On the way to the cemetery on the afternoon of the twentieth, they stopped at a florist, that grew different varieties of flowers in a greenhouse. It wasn't cheap, but Sören, Dooku, Maglor and Edenel each picked out a bouquet to take to the grave of Brynhildur Jónsdóttir. Maglor had also brought his acoustic guitar, sitting in its case in the trunk of the jeep.  
  
Sören had also brought candles - seven votives in holders, one for each of them, and a tealight candelabra to sit on his mother's grave during the ceremony.  
  
It had been snowing lightly that morning but the snow let up as they drove out. As Sören carried the bag of candles in one hand and the bouquet of flowers in the other, his Doc Martens crunching in the snow, he felt leaden with every step, felt the tears coming on. It was so clear in his mind's eye...  
  
 _"Mamma? You have to wake up now."  
  
Sören shakes her, but she won't wake up. "Mamma? Wake up. Wake up, Mamma..."  
  
It's dark, and well past the time she should have woken up. Sören is hungry now, as are his brothers, and it's late, and his mother's skin is cold. He tries to remember the number to call for emergency - 112 - repeating it over and over again as he heads to the phone. He dials, and tells the person on the other line, through his tears, that his mother won't wake up.  
  
A little while later there are many sirens, and paramedics carry out his mother, in a bag. They ask Sören a lot of questions, that he mostly doesn't have answers for. His brothers just cry.  
  
Finally his aunt Katrín, his father's sister who he barely knows, shows up, reeking of beer.  
  
"Your mother is dead. You're coming home with me."_  
  
He remembered the way his mother looked, laying on the couch, her long, slightly wavy black hair fanned out, her eyes closed with their long lashes, her lips slightly parted, hugging herself. She was so beautiful even in death. While Sören was the spitting image of his father Sigurd, Dag and Margrét looked a great deal like her...  
  
Margrét, Frankie and Coldagnir were all waiting at the gravestone. They'd added three bouquets of white roses, and there was a sparkly purple ribbon draping Brynhildur's grave now - purple had been her favorite color, Sören remembered. Silently, Sören stooped to lay his bouquet of stargazer lilies at his mother's grave, and then Dooku, Maglor, and Edenel put down their bouquets in turn, adding more roses as well as violets and chrysanthemums and marigolds.  
  
Sören opened the bag and put the candelabra on top of his mother's headstone. Then he passed a votive holder to each of them. There was nobody else at the cemetery - after looking around to make absolutely sure, Coldagnir snapped his fingers and the candles all lit up.  
  
Sören bowed his head for a moment of silence. He thought of his mother again, the kindness and love she had shown her children, and her nephew when Ari visited. Even as deep in grief as she was over her husband's death, she had tried to make her children happy - something that Sören appreciated even more now that he was an adult and struggled with depression and knew what that must have cost her. He had only less than six short years with her, but he still treasured his memories of her, the songs, the stories, the jokes, the fun, the laughter, the tenderness. It was her shining example of love that, despite all the cruelty he'd known, gave Sören his own capacity to love - besides that part of him that was Fëanor, who loved so fiercely.  
  
The wind stirred, and for just a few seconds it felt like there was warmth enveloping Sören... a hand on his head, tousling his curls, then sliding over his cheek, stroking. Sören opened his eyes and it was nobody.  
  
 _Mamma._  
  
In his mind's eye Sören saw Miriel standing with Galadriel in Valinor, looking into Galadriel's mirror, watching the seven figures of a sun god, an Elf, and Elves reborn as human at the cemetery in Akureyri.  
  
Sören spoke into Galadriel's mind. _Artanis, what are you doing with my mother..._  
  
 _We will help you when the time comes to throw down the false gods,_ Galadriel spoke into his mind. _It is not time yet. It will not be time for some time._ A pause. _We must not speak of this further, Uncle. Just know she is safe with me and you will have aid, when the day draws nigh._  
  
Chills went down Sören's spine. He thought of the way Olórin had decided to turn his back on the Valar, after everything he'd witnessed, and he knew Gandalf and Galadriel were very close. He hadn't realized that Galadriel would be trying to undermine the Valar from the inside.  
  
With Miriel, who, sometime after her death, they had sold to Odin to become a Valkyrie. And then she had been cast out of Valhalla, reborn as mortal.  
  
Sören got angry again thinking about it - but then he smiled through his tears. He'd worried about where Brynhildur, Miriel reborn, had ended up after her death, if she'd been consigned to the Void or once again to Asgard. Now he knew - she was with Galadriel, possibly being hidden by her.  
  
It wasn't as good as having her here, alive, but knowing he very likely would be reunited with his mother someday gave him a sense of relief.  
  
Knowing that he had a hard fight against him to get there - Odin, the Valar, any other enemies... Sören cringed. That wasn't such a relief.  
  
Maglor nudged Sören and handed his candle over. He took his acoustic guitar out of the case.  
  
"Mamma used to sing 'Stairway to Heaven' to us as a lullaby," Sören said, and Margrét nodded.  
  
The tears fell as Sören listened to the familiar opening notes, and his jaw trembled as Maglor began to sing.  
  
 _There's a lady who's sure all that glitters is gold  
And she's buying a stairway to heaven.  
When she gets there she knows, if the stores are all closed  
With a word she can get what she came for.  
Ooh, ooh, and she's buying a stairway to heaven.  
  
There's a sign on the wall but she wants to be sure  
'Cause you know sometimes words have two meanings.  
In a tree by the brook, there's a songbird who sings,  
Sometimes all of our thoughts are misgiven.  
  
Ooh, it makes me wonder,  
Ooh, it makes me wonder._  
  
Dooku put an arm around Sören; Frankie and Coldagnir held Margrét, who was starting to cry as well.  
  
 _There's a feeling I get when I look to the west,  
And my spirit is crying for leaving.  
In my thoughts I have seen rings of smoke through the trees,  
And the voices of those who stand looking._  
  
Sören thought of Telperion and Laurelin, how much Fëanor had been enchanted by their light - the way Finarfin's hair, and later Finarfin's daughter Galadriel's, was just like that of the trees.   
  
_Ooh, it makes me wonder,  
Ooh, it really makes me wonder.  
  
And it's whispered that soon, if we all call the tune,  
Then the piper will lead us to reason.  
And a new day will dawn for those who stand long,  
And the forests will echo with laughter._  
  
Sören was proud of his niece, pride swelling as strong as the ache for his mother... and again, the ache for Finarfin, wondering where he was. Remembering the passion Fëanor and Finarfin had shared in secret, the way they would lay in each other's arms and watch the changing light together, sated and sleepy.  
  
 _If there's a bustle in your hedgerow, don't be alarmed now,  
It's just a spring clean for the May queen._  
  
Sören thought of Brynhildur again, flowers in her hair, putting a flower in little Sören's curls. He remembered what he had seen in the _palantir_ over a year ago, Miriel, Indis and Finwë in a garden together, dancing, laughing, happy - Miriel and Indis had loved each other; Galadriel seemed to be honoring that now, protecting her grandmother's lover.  
  
 _Yes, there are two paths you can go by, but in the long run  
There's still time to change the road you're on.  
And it makes me wonder.  
  
Your head is humming and it won't go, in case you don't know,  
The piper's calling you to join him,  
Dear lady, can you hear the wind blow, and did you know  
Your stairway lies on the whispering wind?_  
  
Sören felt a surge of restlessness - he was neither ready to re-open the studio nor did he feel like hanging around the house all the time. _I should go on vacation,_ Sören thought to himself. _Maybe a belated birthday present._ Sören stroked his chin. _And in honor of my mother. Someplace she would love, with lots of nature and flowers..._  
  
As Maglor's guitar played the instrumental, Sören placed his candle and Maglor's in front of his mother's headstone, and each of them let go of their candles in turn.  
  
Maglor's voice swelled with the finish:  
  
 _And as we wind on down the road  
Our shadows taller than our soul.  
There walks a lady we all know  
Who shines white light and wants to show  
How everything still turns to gold.  
And if you listen very hard  
The tune will come to you at last.  
When all are one and one is all  
To be a rock and not to roll.  
  
And she's buying a stairway to heaven. _  
  
Once again, Sören saw Miriel, as if she were made of light itself. She reached out to him, and it felt for the briefest instant like they were touching, across the chasm that separated them.  
  
 _Mamma. I miss you._  
  
And then the song was over, and she was gone. Sören broke down. So did Margrét.  
  
Now Frankie let go of Margrét. She came over, grabbed Sören, and dragged him over to Margrét and Coldagnir. Frankie, Margrét, Coldagnir and Sören huddled together, holding each other, and then Edenel joined the huddle, petting Sören. Sören looked over at Dooku, and at last Dooku gave a sigh and got past his distaste of Coldagnir to come over and hug them all as well.  
  
Sören saw Maglor was a bit choked up. He watched as Maglor took a few deep breaths and then Maglor said, "Sören, Margrét... what kind of music did your mother like, besides Led Zeppelin? Did she have any favorite bands, you remember? Any favorite songs?"  
  
Margrét and Sören looked at each other and then said in unison, "'Livin' Thing' by ELO." Sören laughed and Margrét did too.  
  
"Já, ELO was her favorite band," Margrét said.  
  
"And that was her favorite song." Sören nodded.  
  
"All right. Well, in honor of Brynhildur..." Maglor cleared his throat, strummed random chords on his guitar a little, flexed his fingers, took a deep breath, and started to play and sing.  
  
 _Sailin' away on the crest of a wave  
It's like magic  
Oh, rollin' and riding and slipping and sliding  
It's magic_  
  
Sören and Margrét took each other's hands and began to waltz together, like they did when they were small children.  
  
 _And you, and your sweet desire,  
You took me, ooh, oh, higher and higher, baby  
  
It's a livin' thing,  
It's a terrible thing to lose  
It's a given thing  
What a terrible thing to lose.  
  
I'm taking a dive_  
  
Sören twirled and dipped Margrét, who laughed.  
  
 _Making believe this is what you've conceived  
From your worst day,  
I'm taking a dive  
Moving in line then you look back in time  
To the first day  
I'm taking, I'm taking  
  
And you and your sweet desire  
(Don't you do it, don't you do it)  
You took me  
Oh, higher and higher, baby_  
  
Now they were dancing with Frankie, doing a sort of can-can.  
  
 _It's a living thing  
It's a terrible thing to lose  
It's a given thing  
What a terrible thing to lose  
  
(And I'm taking a dive on the slide hey)  
  
Takin' a dive 'cause you can't halt the slide  
Floating downstream,  
(I'm taking a dive)  
So let her go don't start spoiling the show  
It's a bad dream  
(I'm taking, I'm taking)_  
  
Coldagnir danced with them now, picking up each of them in turn and spinning them.  
  
 _And you and your sweet desire  
(Don't you do it, don't you do it)  
You took me  
Oh, higher and higher, baby  
  
It's a living thing  
It's a terrible thing to lose  
It's a given thing  
What a terrible thing to lose_  
  
There was another cuddle-huddle and finally Maglor packed up his guitar and joined in. That meant as much to Sören as the way Maglor had honored her with his music, knowing Maglor was uncomfortable in close proximity to Coldagnir after the revelation -  
  
-and now, in the height of emotions, Maglor had his guard down just enough for Sören to feel that he desired Coldagnir, as well, which had dumped fuel on the fire of his anger at the revelation.  
  
 _Well, we're going to have to do something about that,_ Sören thought to himself, a frisson going through him at the thought of Maglor and Coldagnir having sex... having a threesome with them, a foursome, a moresome... _But not yet._ Everything was too raw right now, Maglor was going to need time. And space.  
  
They went to a seafood restaurant on the bay after the memorial. Sören realized that he shouldn't have been surprised Dooku and Maglor weren't trying to beat up Coldagnir as they sat across from him at the table, since they'd given their word, but he was still nonetheless surprised as the memory of the violence was still fresh. Sören could tell that Dooku and Maglor were still feeling awkward about it, and the feeling was mutual for Coldagnir, who seemed somewhat guarded around them - not that Sören could blame him. But they managed to eat together in public without incident.  
  
It was decided that they would all head back to the house in Akureyri after their meal. It was starting to snow again, and Dooku made hot chocolate once they got in. Coldagnir provided enough warmth that the fireplace being lit wasn't necessary, but it was lit anyway to provide a relaxing ambiance. Huan and the cats came out for attention, and Edenel said, "Maglor, would you play some more for us?"  
  
Maglor brought out his war harp from the studio room and sat a stool in the living room. He played classical pieces as well as classic rock, and then some songs more befitting the "Alejandro" goth persona he'd adopted in Reykjavik over ten years ago - "Enjoy the Silence" by Depeche Mode, "That Joke Isn't Funny Anymore" and "How Soon Is Now" by The Smiths, "A Forest" by The Cure, and at last, The Cure's "Lovesong", making eyes at Sören and Dooku as he played the harp and sang.  
  
 _Whenever I'm alone with you  
You make me feel like I am home again  
Whenever I'm alone with you  
You make me feel like I am whole again  
  
Whenever I'm alone with you  
You make me feel like I am young again  
Whenever I'm alone with you  
You make me feel like I am fun again  
  
However far away  
I will always love you  
However long I stay  
I will always love you  
Whatever words I say  
I will always love you  
I will always love you  
  
Whenever I'm alone with you  
You make me feel like I am free again  
Whenever I'm alone with you  
You make me feel like I am clean again  
  
However far away  
I will always love you  
However long I stay  
I will always love you  
Whatever words I say  
I will always love you  
I will always love you_  
  
Sören started to cry again. _I love you so much,_ Sören spoke into Maglor's mind.  
  
 _I love you too. More than you know._ Their eyes met, and held.  
  
Margrét and Frankie started making vomit noises. "I think I'm gettin' fuckin' diabetes," Frankie snarked.  
  
Sören used the Force to hurl couch pillows at them. That got Margrét and Frankie hitting him back, and they got into a pillow fight, holding pillows and beating each other as well as using the Force to fling pillows at each other. When a pillow Frankie threw hit Coldagnir by accident he got involved too, taking Sören's side, and then Edenel joined Margrét and Frankie's side, until Edenel and Coldagnir were chasing each other around the living room. In a fit of mischief Sören tripped Edenel and his uncle fell on him, knocking over Coldagnir as well, and Sören purred as he stretched out with them, propping himself up on one elbow, giving them a seductive look. "So, come here often?"  
  
Dooku cleared his throat and Maglor glared daggers. Sören sighed, but he realized that, even as they'd promised to be civil, this was probably coming up on the hard line of where they could stay in control of themselves, at least for now.  
  
Coldagnir got up and brushed himself off. "We should go to the hotel," he said softly.  
  
Sören pouted, feeling a little disappointed. "Oh, you guys would have been welcome to stay in the guest room -"  
  
"No. We wouldn't have." Coldagnir glanced at Dooku and Maglor, and then he walked over and got his coat, not saying another word.  
  
Sören raised an eyebrow at Dooku and Maglor, who exchanged a sheepish glance. After Margrét and Frankie bundled up, Sören followed them outside to hug them goodbye, and then Dooku and Maglor came out as well, just as Frankie and Margrét were getting in the jeep.  
  
"My apologies," Dooku said.  
  
Sören's jaw dropped.  
  
"This is..." Dooku exhaled sharply and looked away. "It's going to take some getting used to -"  
  
"Fingolfin," Coldagnir said, cutting him off.  
  
That got Dooku's attention, staring at him with a bit of surprise but otherwise not reacting.  
  
"When you fell, I kept one of the crystals that broke out of your shield," Coldagnir said. "I had it with me until the War of Wrath. Sören thought you should know. Even at my worst, my most hateful, there was a part of me that still loved you all." He got into the jeep and called out, "Good night."  
  
Dooku blinked slowly as Coldagnir drove off. Maglor looked stunned. Sören put an arm around each of them and clapped them on the back.  
  
"That was what made me pardon him," Sören said.  
  
"I... see." Dooku sighed. He pinched the bridge of his nose. He closed his eyes - Sören could feel him remembering Fingolfin's death, remembering the word of Fëanor's death. Dooku opened his eyes. "I am not as quick to forgive as you, but I will... evaluate this information."  
  
"Please do." Sören folded his arms and rocked on his heels, feeling a touch of annoyance. "I'd really like my own family to not feel unwelcome in my home, next time they come to visit."  
  
"Let's go inside," Maglor said softly - Sören could feel the mixed emotions from him as well.  
  
Sören was feeling emotional himself, once again remembering the way he'd found his mother's dead body, missing his mother... missing his entire family, scattered around the world, those of blood and those with past life connections, both the ones he knew of and the ones as yet not found. Dooku, Maglor and Edenel comforted him together, helping him get to a better place for awhile, but in the silence before he drifted off to sleep, he thought once again of his mother, then Galadriel, then Finrod-Dagnýr... then Finarfin, wherever he was.  
  
 _Closer than you think,_ Galadriel had spoken to him over a month ago.  
  
But right now he seemed impossibly far away.


	25. Last Hurrah

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *offers tissues and beverage of choice*

**Last Hurrah**

  
  
  
Sören spent most of that weekend in bed - but not out of depression; he made love with Dooku, Maglor and Edenel for hours, coming to climax again and again, lost in sensuality and passion.  
  
On Saturday they ate mostly finger food, and took turns feeding each other. On Sunday night they finally pulled themselves out of bed, and Dooku barbecued in the yard, with Maglor helping him. As they sat and watched the aurora together, Sören leaned on Edenel, who stroked his curls.  
  
"I was thinking, this past Friday," Sören said, "you know, at my mamma's little memorial..."  
  
Edenel nodded.  
  
"I want to go on vacation for awhile. That a change of scenery might do me some good." Sören folded his arms. "Like, not right away, but... sometime next month, maybe, before we go to Toronto to see Dag for Christmas. Someplace I've never been before." Sören gave a wistful sigh. "Someplace my mamma would have loved. Wild, lush. Paradise."  
  
Edenel continued petting Sören for a moment, saying nothing, and then he said, "That might help."  
  
"Do you want to come with us?"  
  
Edenel stopped petting. He took Sören's chin in his hand, gave him a kiss, and he said, "The longer I stay with you, the less motivated I am to leave... and I have other places to be. I can multi-locate, now, but it's taxing to spread myself thin."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"I did say that before I left, I wanted to make sure you were starting to be OK again, that you were either making art again or you were otherwise showing signs of life. You haven't worked on art, but talking about a vacation is a sign that you're coming back from the edge. Which is my cue to leave."  
  
"Awwwww. I... I get it. But... you can't stay for my birthday on Wednesday, at least?"  
  
"I think it would do you, Fingolfin and Maglor some good to have the day to yourselves and reconnect." Edenel kissed him again. "Next year, however, I'd be delighted to celebrate your birthday with you."  
  
"OK, that works for me." Sören kissed him back. "I mean, compared to last year, this birthday will probably be pretty low key. Last year on my birthday I found a Silmaril. It's hard to top that for momentous."  
  
"After what the last two months have been like, I daresay having a nice, peaceful day is what the three of you need."  
  
Sören nodded. "A nice, peaceful day like a nice, normal family." He snorted.  
  
  
_  
  
  
On Monday the twenty-third, Dooku drove Edenel to the Dimmuborgir to take his leave, with Maglor and Sören going along in the jeep for the ride. They took turns embracing and kissing him, and Sören walked him as far as he could go, feeling the thrum and warmth of the energy building under the arch.  
  
"I'll see you in a few months," Edenel said.  
  
"I love you," Sören said.  
  
"I love you too, my dear." Edenel gave him a kiss.  
  
Then Sören threw his arms around Edenel, kissed him harder, and husked, "Give Claire a kiss for me."  
  
Edenel laughed and patted him, and then he waved and turned around, not looking back.  
  
Even though Sören had the promise that Edenel would return - and he wasn't going off to the Dagorath, he was just going to some universe's version of Claire James - he still teared up as he watched the light envelop Edenel and surge, everything going ultraviolet. When he got back in the jeep he cried on the way home, and despite Edenel's concern at this behavior, Sören returned to blanket heap mode for the rest of the day.  
  
He stayed like that for most of Tuesday and then Maglor dragged him out. "Come on," Maglor said. "We're walking the dog."  
  
"Is that what we're calling it now?"  
  
Maglor gave Sören a look, then he facepalmed, laughing. "The actual dog, on an actual walk, Sören. Why are you like this?"  
  
Sören managed a smile.  
  
They walked through downtown Akureyri, in the snow, Huan in a little knit dog sweater with pine trees on it. They stopped for hot chocolate and pastries, and Huan sat obediently and waited as they sat on a bench, drinking and eating.  
  
"Thank you," Sören said finally.  
  
"I didn't want to be tough on you, but we really have to try to keep going," Maglor said. "And it's your birthday tomorrow."  
  
"God." Sören rubbed his face. "How is that here already."  
  
"What do you want to do for your birthday, anyway?"  
  
Sören thought for a moment. "Two of my favorite places, locally? The Botanical Garden, and the Nature Baths? And then Serrano for dinner, and cake." He leered. "And you and Nico for dessert."  
  
"OK, we can arrange that."  
  
When they got back to the house, Sören was in a somewhat better mood. He played Stardew Valley, and then for the first time in weeks, he took out his sketchpad. He thought of the woman who'd given him life thirty-six years tomorrow, and the vision he'd had of her at the memorial last Friday. He began to sketch his mother, with flowers in her hair.  
  
He got absorbed enough in sketching that he was reluctant to break for dinner. After dinner he and Maglor went to walk Huan again and Maglor noticed Sören seemed a bit antsy. Sören finally confessed, "I, ah. I've been drawing."  
  
Maglor threw his arms around Sören and kissed him hard.  
  
"Would you like to draw as I play?" Maglor asked. "We haven't done that in awhile."  
  
"Please."  
  
That was what they did, that night. Maglor played on his harp - improvising, recording the music so he could play it back and write it down later. Sören continued the sketch of his mother, and worked on the background setting, his mother in a garden, with a fountain, a house, an outdoor stairway leading up to the second story of the house. He found himself drawing three small children, toddlers, playing in the garden. At first he thought it was himself, Margrét and Dagnýr as children, but then he found himself choosing red hair for one of the children - like one of Dagnýr's daughters. Dark curls for another, and dark waves for another. Then Sören found himself drawing the one with dark curls playing fetch with a raven, while a second raven hovered around his mother, seeming to see her. Sören's colored pencils went with lighter colors for his mother, like an apparition, bolder colors for the children and the garden and the ravens.  
  
Just before Sören could start coloring the fountain, his cell phone went off with "Pretty Vacant" by the Sex Pistols. Sören got up and saw it was midnight. He used the Force to pull the phone over. "Hej."  
  
Margrét, Frankie and Coldagnir sang into the phone:  
  
 _Happy birthday to you  
Happy birthday to you  
Happy birthday, dear Sören  
Happy birthday to you_  
  
"Awwwww, _takk_ , you guys," Sören said.  
  
"We're on break," Margrét said. "I wanted to make sure that I got you right at midnight."  
  
"You're a good sister."  
  
"You want to get together an afternoon this weekend? Like we take you to lunch or something? You can come down or we can come up."  
  
"I'd like that."  
  
"OK. Let's plan for Saturday, if that works for you."  
  
"I'm flexible. Just ask Frankie and Kol -"  
  
"Oh my god, Sören, OK, I'm going now -"  
  
"Hi, Going Now -"  
  
The call ended and Sören snickered to himself. He headed back to the studio room and Maglor gave a dramatic flourish on his harp, then Maglor began to play the old song from the Beatles on his harp, singing:  
  
 _They say it's your birthday  
It's my birthday too, yeah  
They say it's your birthday  
We're gonna have a good time  
I'm glad it's your birthday  
Happy birthday to you  
  
Ah  
Ah  
Ah  
Come on  
Come on  
  
Yes we're going to a party party  
Yes we're going to a party party  
Yes we're going to a party party  
  
I would like you to dance  
Take a cha-cha-cha-chance  
I would like you to dance  
Dance yeah_  
  
Not able to help himself, Sören began to take his clothes off, thrusting his hips, wiggling his butt. He flung his shirt at Maglor, who had to stop playing, bright red and flustered. When Sören was down to his underwear, Maglor scooped Sören off the floor and carried him to the bedroom, where Dooku was in bed reading. Dooku promptly put the book down.  
  
"Is this the party, then?" Sören asked.  
  
"Yes," Dooku said. "It's in my pants."  
  
Sören howled - Dooku so rarely joked like this, and Sören loved it when he did. "You might want to see a doctor for that." Sören got on the bed. "I guess I'll have to do."  
  
"I guess so." Dooku drew Sören into his arms and kissed him deeply, then Maglor tilted Sören's head so they could kiss. Sören grinned as Maglor undressed, and moaned when Dooku rolled him back against the pillows.  
  
  
_  
  
  
Sören woke up close to eleven AM, with that warm, glowy feeling he got after a night of good sex. The cats hopped up on the bed to greet him, and Sören's nose twitched at the smell of cake. Just before he could get out of bed, he saw Maglor poke his head in the bedroom and Maglor called down the hall to Dooku, "He's awake."  
  
"Oh, finally."  
  
"We decided to let you sleep in," Maglor said, walking in the room, "since, you know... not a morning person... but we thought we were going to have to wake you up."  
  
Dooku came in with a tray - a lemon cake, iced with strawberries on top, a bottle of champagne and three glasses. The cake had thirty-six candles neatly arranged in four groups of nine. Dooku lit them and then he and Maglor began to sing "Happy Birthday To You". When Sören blew out the candles, he saw that they were the trick candles that kept re-lighting.  
  
"You're the Flame Imperishable," Dooku said. "We had to."  
  
"You're a twat," Sören said.  
  
"As you know, you're a dick."  
  
Sören blew a raspberry.  
  
The candles finally went out. Maglor cut Sören a generous piece of cake, uncorked the champagne, and poured it. The cats got very interested in the cake, with Rasputin being bold enough to lean in and try to sniff it up close. Sören used the Force to take one of the cat toys off the floor - a mouse - and threw it; the cats lost interest in the cake and went to chase the mouse. Pumpkin caught it, hopped up on the bed, and Sören threw it again.  
  
Sören, Maglor and Dooku ate cake and drank champagne in bed while they watched the cats chase the mouse and then, just as Sören was finishing his cake and working on his second glass of champagne, his phone rang. It was Ari. Ari began to sing:  
  
 _Hann á afmæli í dag  
Hann á afmæli í dag  
Hann á afmæli hann Sören  
Hann á afmæli í dag_  
  
In the background Sören heard Harrison yell: "WHAT HE SAID."  
  
Sören chuckled. "Awwww, Ari, _takk._ "  
  
"Happy birthday," Ari said. "How have you been holding up? Since, you know." He meant the last time they spoke, which was Ari's own birthday, right after the Dagorath.  
  
"It's been a bumpy ride, but I think we'll be OK. What about you guys?"  
  
"We've been doing all right. The bed and breakfast still has plenty of business, Harrison's had his students, we've had our D&D games, we go running or hiking together when we've got free time."  
  
"Still writing?"  
  
"Not since. Uh. The thing. But I'm starting to get some ideas again."  
  
"Já, my art dried up for a bit. It's finally coming back."  
  
"Good. I guess we're all kind of getting back to normal."  
  
 _For now,_ was Sören's immediate response, followed by _Not for long._ He wondered why he thought that - if it was just paranoia, or his Force sense going off - and he decided not to say it aloud. "I guess so. I'm thinking about going away for a bit before we see Dag for Christmas. Haven't decided yet, and Christmas is close enough that the vacation might have to wait till after the holidays."  
  
"You guys should come here and see us."  
  
"I know. And we will! But I mean, like... somewhere we've never been before. Like an adventure. Hey, maybe if you and Harrison can get someone to cover the bed and breakfast for a week or two, you guys could come with us, já?"  
  
"Maybe. We have to plan those things far enough in advance so probably the earliest we could get out of here is March or April."  
  
"Jesus, that long?"  
  
"For a week or two as opposed to a weekend? Já, that long. This place isn't going to run itself."  
  
"Well, maybe I might go sooner and then go on a second vacation with you guys then."  
  
"OK... what about your studio?"  
  
"It's closed till after the holidays. I'm re-evaluating whether or not to open then."  
  
"It's been that rough, huh?" _I could feel it but didn't want to intrude. I figured you already had enough people fussing over you and you'd give me the "don't feel sorry for me" routine._  
  
 _You're not wrong._ "It's been pretty rough. I, ah. Don't want to get into it now, on my birthday."  
  
"That's fair. Just know if you ever need to talk about things..."  
  
"There's only so much I can get into on the phone." Once again, Sören resented that they had to be so careful now with what they could say on the phone, online, separated across the kilometers as they were.  
  
"I know. But we're a short flight away, too." Ari chuckled. "At least till Katla goes off."  
  
"Still bracing yourselves for that, huh?"  
  
"They say it's coming."  
  
"It's not the end of the world, Ari." But as soon as the words were out of Sören's mouth, he got a weird tingle down his spine, heart starting to beat a little faster. He didn't like that feeling.  
  
Ari seemed to sense it. "I shouldn't keep you, I know you've probably got plans -"  
  
"Já, we're gonna go to the Botanical Garden and the Nature Baths and out to eat. Nothing major but still a nice day. Then I'm gonna have lunch with Margrét on Saturday."  
  
"Sometimes low key birthdays are the best. If Harrison hadn't taken me to Skye I would have just lounged in my pajamas all day reading."  
  
"Is that what we're calling it now?" Harrison called from the background.  
  
"Oh, god." Sören facepalmed. "WELL, ON THAT NOTE..."  
  
"Bye, Sören." Ari laughed. "Have a good birthday."  
  
"You too." Then Sören facepalmed again, realizing what he'd just said. "Oh fuck."  
  
Ari laughed harder. "Love you."  
  
"Love you too."  
  
Sören's face was burning when he got off the phone - his cousin had seen him at his dorkiest, but he still couldn't help feeling a little awkward. _You too. Jesus._ Sören finished his champagne and showered, spending a longer time in the shower than usual, seeing that Dooku had picked up a new bottle of the body wash he liked.  
  
Sören put on faded jeans, a navy blue turtleneck and his Nine Inch Nails "Pretty Hate Machine" T-shirt under a blue plaid flannel shirt. For the Nature Baths he got out a pair of blue swim trunks, and he bounded out to the kitchen where Maglor and Dooku were having coffee, while Dooku checked the news online. Sören had coffee and then he was ready to go.  
  
Their first stop was the Botanical Garden, which had a completely different energy in the winter than it did in the warmer months. It looked like an enchanted always-winter realm with plants made of ice and snow, and the frozen pond added to that feeling, looking like a magic mirror. Sören half-expected to see a snow queen or perhaps a troll hanging about, and burned the imagery of the frozen garden into his mind's eye, that he might be able to do something with later now that he was sort of back on track with his art.  
  
But as he looked at the sun shining through ice crystals on the trees, Sören had a distant memory of Fëanor making glass. Sören had taken up ceramics in London after the breakup with Justin Roberts - after he'd had a temporary aversion to painting thanks to Justin's verbal abuse but still needed to make _something_. Pottery was a second love of his. Yet, Sören was also fascinated by stained glass and glass sculptures and now as he walked around the frozen garden and saw the light catch in ice, he thought it might be good for him to take up glassmaking, at some point. He didn't like to make new year's resolutions or goals but 2021 was quickly approaching and maybe that could be something to do in the coming year...  
  
Sören's mind was racing with thoughts of making glass art when they were in the jeep. "Can we stop at the falls?" he asked, meaning the Goðafoss.  
  
They took a detour. Sören had always felt a sense of wonder at the falls, but now more than ever since he'd found the second Silmaril there.  
  
Sören took a coin from his pocket, an old superstition that he practiced whenever it seemed his life was about to undergo a major change. He didn't quite understand it now, but he tossed the coin into the falls, and in his mind's eye he saw himself in a forge, shirtless, blowing glass.  
  
They were usually alone at the falls, especially in the winter months when there were fewer tourists, but Sören heard a vehicle pulling in, stereo blasting. He looked and saw a jeep, and their music was louder as it got closer. Sören recognized the song:  
  
 _Do you come from a land down under?  
Where women glow and men plunder?  
Can't you hear, can't you hear the thunder?  
You better run, you better take cover_  
  
Sören, Dooku and Maglor took that as their cue to leave - the Living Force energy of the falls was strong, what Dooku had once called a Force Nexus, and it was harder for Maglor to keep up the appearance of being human in such a place. They got in their jeep and took off, and as Sören watched the falls roll away out the window, Sören had the same sense that he'd had at Reynisfjara awhile back, and his studio - that this was the last time he'd see the Goðafoss. It made no sense, but he couldn't shake the feeling, and it disturbed him now more than ever. It was one thing to feel that way at Reynisfjara in anticipation of the Dagorath. But now after the Dagorath... what else was coming?  
  
To make matters worse, Sören ended up with "Down Under" by Men At Work as an earworm, and he'd found one of the only ways to get rid of an earworm was to play the song on repeat until it went away. Moreso than other earworms he'd had, this felt almost like a madness mantra, something someone would sing over and over again as they snapped. Sören didn't like that feeling, this earworm as he felt like the other shoe was going to drop anytime now. He needed it out of his head. He requested the 80s playlist in the jeep, and then that particular song, and he sang along in the backseat:  
  
 _Travelling in a fried-out Kombi  
On a hippie trail, head full of zombie  
I met a strange lady, she made me nervous  
She took me in and gave me breakfast  
And she said:  
  
"Do you come from a land down under  
Where women glow and men plunder  
Can't you hear, can't you hear the thunder  
You better run, you better take cover."  
  
Buying bread from a man in Brussels  
He was six foot four and full of muscles  
I said, "Do you speak-a my language?"  
He just smiled and gave me a Vegemite sandwich  
And he said:  
  
"I come from a land down under  
Where beer does flow and men chunder  
Can't you hear, can't you hear the thunder  
You better run, you better take cover."_  
  
They arrived at the Nature Baths at Lake Mývatn just as the sun was starting to set. They showered first, as per the requirement, and Sören ogled Maglor and Dooku, going hard at the sight of them naked, forcing himself to wait till they got home later to do anything about it since this wasn't exactly a private place. Sören pulled on his blue swim trunks and his husbands followed him out to the hot spring.  
  
Cuddling together in the hot spring, watching the sunset blaze and fade to blue twilight and deep purple night, the stars rising, was a magical experience. They took turns kissing in between nips of ice-cold beer, and Sören once again had to restrain the urge to do something naughty right then and there. But just snuggling, itself, was nice, and here under the beautiful, seemingly endless sky, after feeling earlier like the other shoe was going to drop, there was solace, serenity. Sören had that moment of feeling like things were finally OK again.  
  
 _For now,_ came that thought he'd had earlier, this time stronger than before, the pit of his stomach rising.  
  
 _Jesus Christ._ Sören blinked back tears. _Am I ever going to stop worrying about shit?_  
  
Just before Sören could suggest they leave, the northern lights lit up the sky. Sören gasped and his anxiety was replaced by joy, watching nature's pyrotechnics, the play of green and blue and violet, the way the colors seemed to sing. Sören took Dooku and Maglor's hands and kissed them, held them to his heart and let them feel his euphoria, his awe at the magnificence of the world. For all of its problems, he loved the world and the beauty of it, these moments when he felt at one with nature, where everything felt like magic.  
  
Maglor wanted to listen to Cocteau Twins on the way from Lake Mývatn to the Mexican restaurant, which was the perfect ambiance for driving under the northern lights. Sören curled up in a blanket in the back seat, warm and cozy in the jeep, continuing to watch the aurora sky as Liz Fraser's glossolalia expressed the ineffable, feeling beyond words, shimmering and soaring with the lights weaving above them.  
  
Sören had a chicken tortilla bowl which was nice and filling, enough that he needed to take a little nap when they got home. Sören got in his pajamas and he and Maglor spooned, with Huan and the cats cuddling with them, while Dooku worked on his laptop, writing. To the sound of cats purring, Sören fell asleep.  
  
He woke up to Maglor raining kisses over his face, and Dooku brought in more cake. It was late evening now, later than Sören expected - he'd napped for a few hours, not just an hour or less - but still technically his birthday. And so they took turns feeding each other bites of cake, and Sören teased them by sensually licking and sucking the fork, licking and sucking their fingers. "It's really warm in here," Sören said, taking off his pajama top, and then when Dooku fed him another bite of cake, Sören used the Force to make it slide off the fork onto his bare chest, right near his nipple. "Whoopsidoodle," Sören said with an innocent face that wasn't innocent at all.  
  
Dooku gave him a look, but his eyes twinkled, and he lowered his head to eat the bit of cake off Sören's chest, tongue "accidentally" brushing the nipple nearby. Sören then "accidentally" spilled champagne onto his other nipple for Maglor to lap up, and that led to Dooku and Maglor licking and suckling his nipples at the same time, Sören's cock springing to life, clutching their heads and arching to them, moaning. "Fuck cake," Sören panted. "Eat me instead."  
  
Then Sören's phone went off.  
  
 _We come from the land of the ice and snow  
From the midnight sun, where the hot springs flow_  
  
Sören used the Force to grab his phone from the bedtable where it was on the charger. "Great timing, Dag," Sören muttered as he swiped to accept. "Hej."  
  
Dagnýr replied in English. "Hi! Happy birthday!"  
  
Sören chuckled. "Jæja, happy birthday! I knew you'd be calling sometime today -"  
  
"Yeah, I wanted to call sooner than this, but you know, school, kids..." Dagnýr laughed. "Never a dull moment."  
  
"I bet. You have plans though, right? All work and no play, and all of that." Snúdur and Huan got onto the bed, as if they knew their uncle was on the phone.  
  
"Yeah, Matt and I are on the highway now. We're going out to eat, and then we're gonna see the new Marvel movie. Did you do anything fun for your birthday, even though, well, you know."  
  
Sören knew - it almost seemed pointless to celebrate his birthday now that he was immortal, but after having wished for death more than once in his life it was a chance to celebrate his life. "We went to the Botanical Garden, and also went to dinner..." Sören decided not to tell his brother about the Nature Baths, as he didn't want to break down crying about the aurora. "Nico made a cake, and just before you called the three of us were gonna, um."  
  
"Play a game of Uno?"  
  
"Mmmmmm, something like that."  
  
"Dammit, Sören, TMI."  
  
Sören snickered. Snúdur meowed into the phone, and then Huan barked in the distance. "The fur children say hello," Sören said. "How are my goddaughters?"  
  
"Beautiful, wonderful, and perfect. They never cease to amaze me, I made these."  
  
Sören felt that sharp ache again, wishing he wasn't jealous of his brother having children. "I hope you got a sitter for the night so you get at least a few hours peace and quiet...?"  
  
"Yeah, I did." Dagnýr laughed, as if to say _is there ever peace and quiet?_ "I get anxiety being away from them, but..."  
  
"You need a break every so often and it doesn't make you a bad parent, it makes you human." Sören caught himself then, with a little snort. _Not that we're really human._  
  
"Mhm. Well... I don't want to keep you from your ahem, perfectly chaste and pure, wholesome game of Uno. I just wanted to let you know I'm thinking of you on our birthday."  
  
" _Takk, litli bróðir._ " For some reason even more than the birthday wishes than his sister and his cousin, it was his twin that got to him. Sören felt himself getting choked up, missing Dag fiercely.  
  
"You're only seven minutes older, you know."  
  
"You're still my little brother. A little brother who casts a big shadow." Sören's voice was husky with emotion. "I'm very proud of you."  
  
"Jesus, Sören, don't punch me in the feels right now. I'm proud of you too." Across their Force bond, across an ocean, Sören felt Dagnýr hug him, and Sören returned that hug as tightly as he could. Christmas couldn't come soon enough. "Enjoy the rest of your evening."  
  
"You too." A pause. "I love you."  
  
And then Dagnýr responded in their native language, a tell that he was feeling choked up too, missing Sören as much as Sören missed him. " _Ég elska þig líka._ "  
  
The call ended, and Sören pressed the phone to his heart for a moment, taking a few deep breaths.  
  
"Are you all right, sweetheart?" Dooku touched Sören's face.  
  
Sören managed a smile. "I'm fine," he said, but tears stung his eyes.  
  
"You're not fine."  
  
Sören shrugged. "I don't know why I'm reacting like this. I think missing Dag is hitting me harder than usual. Probably because we just passed the thirty-year anniversary of our mamma's death, and Dag became a father this year, and..." Sören's voice trailed off. That still didn't quite explain why he was having such an intense, visceral reaction to talking to his brother. He used the Force to put the phone back on the charger on the bedtable.  
  
For a few minutes Maglor and Dooku just pet him, and then Maglor offered him another forkful of cake. Sören ate it, and they finished their pieces of cake, then put the dishes aside and Sören was held between them, legs entwined.  
  
The cats got curious about a bit of frosting conspicuously left on the edge of a plate and Dooku used the Force to snatch the plate away, and then said, "Here," and wiped the frosting onto his finger and put it in Sören's mouth, before putting the plate back.  
  
The act of sucking Dooku's finger not only distracted Sören from the feelings overload but woke Sören's cock up again, and Sören's cock jolted when Dooku cupped Sören's chin with his hand and gave him a deep kiss. Then Maglor tilted Sören's face and kissed him, making Sören's cock throb. Then Maglor and Dooku leaned over Sören to kiss, and watching them got Sören even more aroused, Sören using the Force to peel off his pajama bottoms and fling them onto the floor.  
  
"So, where were we before we were interrupted?" Dooku asked Maglor.  
  
"I think we were doing this," Maglor said, and he rolled Sören onto his back and drew a nipple into his mouth.  
  
"Mmmmm, yes." Dooku sucked the other nipple, hard.  
  
"Oh, shit." Sören's breath hitched, his cock twinging again, his hole twitching as well. " _Fuck_..."  
  
"The cake you made was pretty good," Maglor told Dooku, "but this is even more delicious." He turned his attention back to Sören's nipple, tongue lashing it before he tugged the nipple ring with his teeth, then his tongue brushed more gently.  
  
"So delicious." Dooku licked Sören's nipple as well, tugged on the ring, licked some more.  
  
"God, fuck me," Sören moaned.  
  
"We'll get there," Dooku husked, stroking Sören's face. "We want to savor you first."  
  
And savor they did, spending a long time on Sören's nipples, lapping, suckling, nibbling, teasing them into hard, aching nubs as Sören writhed and thrashed, moaned and gasped and panted, at last whimpering, howling, trembling. Dooku and Maglor worked their way down Sören's body, licking every inch of him, from his chest down to his stomach, hips, thighs, and calves, then back up his calves and thighs and stomach, nibbling and kissing his stomach and thighs over and over, knowing how sensitive he was there. At last they came to Sören's cock, fully erect, flushed a deep pink with need, precum dripping down the shaft. They licked his cock together, each of them collecting precum with their tongues, and when they kissed, sharing it between them, the sight of them kissing so sensually almost brought Sören off right there.  
  
"Oh god." Sören shuddered. "Please..."  
  
They took a few more licks at Sören's cock and kissed each other again, and Sören gave a helpless whimper, going out of his mind with lust and sensation and need. Dooku and Maglor relented, chuckling; Dooku licked Sören's cock as Maglor's tongue worked inside him, rubbing the sweet spot just right. After a few minutes of teasing him like that, Dooku took Sören's cock into his mouth, sucking slowly as Maglor's tongue lashed inside him harder, faster. Sören grabbed Dooku's head and began rolling his hips, gently fucking Dooku's mouth and fucking himself on Maglor's tongue. They brought him to the edge of climax, where Sören was just about to come, and then Dooku stopped sucking Sören's cock and started licking it again and Maglor's tongue slowed down inside him. Sören cried out, his body shaking with its need for release.  
  
Then they switched places, with Maglor's mouth on Sören's cock, Dooku's tongue inside him. Maglor sucked him slowly - even more slowly than Dooku had been sucking him - and Dooku's tongue danced in slow, deliberate strokes inside him, with the same finesse he applied to his fencing. Sören started swearing in Icelandic, finally losing his ability to make words at all, just whimpering, sobbing, all desperate urgency.  
  
When Maglor began to suck him harder, hungrier, and Dooku's tongue sped up inside him, Sören was undone within minutes, coming in Maglor's mouth with a broken howl, his body heaving and trembling with each pulse of his orgasm. He lost it all over again when he watched Maglor and Dooku kissing, sharing his seed.  
  
They came up and took turns kissing him. Dooku's thumb brushed one of Sören's nipples and he rasped, "I hope that didn't spoil your appetite."  
  
"Oh god." Sören gave a shuddery gasp, cock stirring again despite the intensity of the orgasm he'd just had. "Fuck..."  
  
They took turns kissing him some more, then worked on his nipples again, driving him crazy. Dooku used the Force to get out the black leather collar and leash from the bedtable, that they hadn't played with in awhile. Maglor put the collar around Sören's neck and Dooku clipped the leash through, pulling Sören up for more kisses. Then they got Sören on all fours, while they half-sat, half-lay down in front of him, kissing, rubbing their cocks together, and pulled Sören on the leash towards their cocks. Sören loved sucking them both at the same time, not just because he loved to suck cock, and loved worshiping their cocks in particular, and the thought of their cocks rubbing together in his mouth got him hot, but it was the shamelessness of it, greedy, wanton, utterly debauched and given over to lust. After the way Justin had left him cold, it was downright intoxicating to feel like this again, so free, so full of _want_.  
  
Watching them kiss as he sucked them brought Sören right to that edge again, moaning with his mouth full, not able to help grinding against the mattress. After Sören had been rubbing himself for a few minutes, moans getting louder, Maglor made a "tsk" and pulled Sören off their cocks, tugged on the leash to bring Sören over to them. "What a naughty boy, rubbing yourself like that," Maglor said, stroking Sören's beard.  
  
"Indeed." Dooku gave Maglor a mischievous look. "I daresay the birthday boy has earnt himself some spankings."  
  
Sören's cock leapt at that, his hole twitching. Just the thought of being spanked almost got him off. Then Sören was pulled over their laps and they took turns slapping his ass - Dooku gave his ass a few hard spankings, then Maglor spanked him, back and forth until Sören's ass was stinging sweetly and his cock was throbbing, aching, balls dangerously tight, wanting to explode. "Please," Sören begged. "Fucking _fuck me._ "  
  
"Oh, _all right._ " Dooku made an exaggerated sigh, and Sören couldn't help giggling at the look of feigned annoyance on Dooku's face, his eyes twinkling. He tugged with the leash and Sören came up to kiss him.  
  
They got into position - Dooku on his back, laying down but leaning up against the pillows. Sören straddled his hips, and Maglor straddled Dooku's knees, right behind Sören, his chest to Sören's back. After Dooku and Maglor applied generous amounts of lube to their cocks, Sören sank down on Dooku's cock, Dooku's hands on Sören's hips, guiding him. When he was all the way inside, Sören and Dooku took each other's hands, gasping and moaning together at that feeling of being joined, one flesh.  
  
Sören rode slowly, Dooku's hands caressing Sören's chest and stomach and thighs, sliding down then up. "You're beautiful," Dooku said, looking a bit awed as he watched Sören rock his hips, moving up and down on Dooku's cock. "Enchanting." He touched Sören's face. "Poetry in motion."  
  
Sören kissed Dooku's hand. "I love you."  
  
"I love you."  
  
"And I love you," Maglor husked, wrapping his arms around Sören from behind, pulling on the leash. He cupped Sören's chin in his hand and tilted Sören's face so they could kiss, as his cock began to push inside.  
  
With Maglor and Dooku both in him, stuffing him full, Sören cried out. He continued his slow ride, moaning at the feel of the two cocks pushing and pulling, gliding in and out of him, the delicious thought of cock rubbing cock inside him, his husbands making love to each other as they were making love to him. He savored the feel of Dooku's hands roaming over him, Maglor's arms tight around him, Maglor's hands sliding, stroking. Maglor kissed, licked and nibbled Sören's neck and shoulder, and every now and again leaned in to claim his mouth, kissing him deep, tongues playing, teasing, their tongues licking together playfully between kisses.  
  
They kept it slow for a long time, losing themselves in the dreamy haze of sensuality, the feeling of connectedness and tender intimacy that they so badly needed after the last two months of chaos. But need overtook them and Sören rocked on their cocks a little harder, then harder still, until at last he was bouncing away, bucking madly, in heat for them, frantic, frenzied. Dooku grabbed Sören's hips and drove into him, and Maglor matched Sören's rhythm, growling as he nibbled on Sören's neck, Maglor's hips slapping against Sören's, holding him with an iron grip, possessing, claiming. The pleasure built higher and deeper, until Sören was trembling, gasping, ready to explode but wanting to keep going, needing the blinding, blazing glory of their sex, their passion...  
  
And then it happened, Sören screaming as his orgasm shattered him, Maglor and Dooku coming together, moaning as their seed flooded him, cock spending on cock deep inside him. That feeling never got old, Sören moaning, loving it as he felt the hot flow within him with each pulse of his channel around them.  
  
They came hard enough to need to sleep afterwards, tangling together in a cuddle pile. Huan and the cats joined them on the bed, and the sound of cats purring, his lovers breathing, the feel of heartbeats and rumbly purrs combining with that cozy, blissful post-orgasmic feeling to send Sören to sleep with a smile on his face and a thought that this had been his best birthday yet.  
  
  
_  
  
  
Dag and Sören are skateboarding in Akureyri, Sören all in black, Dag in khaki cargo shorts and a green T-shirt. Sören recognizes this as the day before Dag left for Oxford, but they are thirty-six, not fourteen - men, not boys.  
  
"I feel like you're gonna be gone forever," Sören tells him, as he did back then. "Like I'm never gonna see you again."  
  
"Oh, Sören. Of course you'll see me again! It's not the end of the world." Dag gives him that dimpled grin, though his grey eyes are full of compassion, knowing Sören worries, just like Dag worries about Sören.  
  
Dag does a kickflip with his skateboard. It's just the two of them at the half-pipe in the park, and Dag uses the Force to pull out the pack of chewing gum from his pocket, that Margrét bought for him with some of her money working as a cashier, a small treat. This time, someone sees.  
  
 _I know what you are._  
  
And then there is the white flash of the Dagorath. Sören is behind the wheel of the jeep again, getting into the accident on the Ring Road. He comes out and instead of seeing the familiar Icelandic landscape, he sees the Large Hadron Collider that Dag helped work on, sent pictures of when he worked at NASA. Sören moves quickly through the CERN facility like he's on a conveyer belt and then he's thrown outside to watch the sky rip open, like a black hole has finally happened and is sucking up the Earth. But it's here for Dag, screaming and reaching out for Sören as he flies up into the air and up, up, up into the whirling vortex in the sky.  
  
"Dag!" Sören screams, and jumps, trying to reach for him, but he's chained up. He can't see the chain but he can feel it, yanking him, weighing him down. "Dag! DAG!"  
  
"Sören!" Sören can't see Dag anymore but he can _hear_ him. And then Dag is just screaming, wordlessly.  
  
Sören begins to scream too.  
  
From the vortex he hears the voice again: _I know what you are. I know what you are. I know what you are..._  
  
There is a homeless-looking woman standing by him now, filthy, matted grey hair, wearing rags, stinking to high heaven. She puts a hand on Sören's shoulder, and Sören tries to not recoil, knowing but for a twist or turn of fate he could have ended up homeless himself, years ago - and then she changes form, into Thor, prophesied to destroy the World Serpent[1], swinging his hammer triumphantly as Dag screams. And there is Odin himself, long grey beard, grey cloak, floppy grey hat covering one blind, burning eye. He is laughing at them now.

_Vituð ér enn - eða hvat?_ [2]  
  
Church bells begin to go off. An old man is walking around with a sandwich board reading THE END OF THE WORLD IS NIGH. "Cry havoc and let slip the dogs of war," he calls out in a gruff voice with an Australian accent. "Release the hounds of hell..."  
  
The bells are ringing, ringing, ringing...  
  
_  
  
Sören's cell phone was going off - the general ringtone for numbers not programmed into his phone. Sören groaned and tried to ignore it, but he was too unsettled from the dream to go back to sleep. He used the Force to grab the phone off the charger and squinted at the clock - it was way too early for anyone who knew him to be calling him, knowing what his body clock and his temperament were like. _This is gonna be a spam robocall or some shit. Let me YELL AT THEM._  
  
Sören swiped to accept and growled into the phone. "Whoever the _fuck_ you are, I'm not interested in what you're selling, especially not at six fucking o'clock in the morning -"  
  
"Fëanor. _Venenya vilyanirwanen ná quanta as angolingwi._ "  
  
Sören froze. A chill went through him. That was the voice of "Brian Proust" aka Olórin, one of Dag's colleagues at the University of Toronto... and _that_ was the emergency codephrase the family had agreed upon in August 2019 - _my hovercraft is full of eels_ in Quenya.  
  
 _Oh, shit._  
  
"Go on," Sören rasped, his mouth dry, heart hammering in his ears.  
  
"Ask Macalaurë about the three of you going on a vacation, and the best options for travel and accommodations, I would truly love to see you again, and I know of two young ladies who would as well. Call me in four hours for further instructions, here is a number you can reach me." Sören used the Force to grab a notepad and pen from the bedtable and when Sören made a grunt to acknowledge he was ready, Olórin gave Sören the number of a different phone than the one that called him; Sören quickly jotted it down. Then Olórin said, "It would be best if you called me from a new phone, _the reception on yours is rather problematic._ Good day."  
  
The call ended. Sören sat there holding the phone, heart pounding, head spinning.  
  
Maglor sat up. "What was that?"  
  
"Trouble."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] [_Chains of Eternity_ chapter 39](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18070109/chapters/45614290): the ancient völva saw Fëanor incarnated as mortal = Fenrir bound, the goth-punk Margrét as the death goddess Hel, and Dag working on the Large Hadron Collider as Jörmungandr, the World Serpent. Thor and the World Serpent are prophesied to mutually destroy each other at the Ragnarök. In the Poetic Edda, Thor disguises himself as a woman once which implies he can do it again; a homeless woman forces Dag's Force use in public in the one shot [_This Is the Way the World Ends_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18500893).
> 
> [2] Old Norse: "Would you yet know more, or what?" From the Völuspá (Poetic Edda).


	26. O Canada

**O Canada**

  
  
  
Sören, Maglor and Dooku sat down to coffee.  
  
"Define 'trouble'," Maglor said.  
  
Sören exhaled sharply and rubbed his face. "That was Olórin. He used the emergency codephrase."  
  
Maglor's eyes widened, and Dooku's brow furrowed. "Go on," Dooku said. "Tell us exactly what he said, as best as you can remember it."  
  
"He said to ask you - Maglor - about the three of us going on vacation." Sören frowned. "Something about him wanting to see us and also having two young ladies who would love to see us again, and he gave me a different phone number than the one he's calling from and said to call him from a different phone because something about problematic reception on mine. Four hours from now, he wants me to call him."  
  
"That means he wants you to use a burner phone," Maglor said. He got up, and Sören heard him open the hall closet. He came back with a briefcase, and opened it on the table. Sören saw a bunch of flip phones inside. "These are all prepaid cell phones." He put a phone on the charger.  
  
"So do you have any idea what he's talking about?" Sören asked.  
  
"Putting two and two together, he wants us to Portal out to see him in Canada and as far as the two young ladies... well, 'young' could mean a lot of people by his standards, Gandalf is old... but realistically..." Maglor sat down and folded his arms. "He works with Dag. Very close friends with Dag. So he may be referring to your brother's daughters."  
  
"Oh my god." Sören's jaw dropped. "I had a nightmare about Dag..."  
  
There was a long silence.  
  
"OK." Maglor reached across the table and took Sören's hands. "I know this is easier said than done right now, but panic has the potential to make things much, much worse - decisions made without thinking clearly. Right now the only thing I know for sure is that we don't know one hundred percent what's going on and we won't for another four hours."  
  
"Why is he making us wait that long, do you think?"  
  
"My gut tells me he's leaving Toronto with the girls -"  
  
"Oh my god, _why._ " Chills went through Sören. "What _happened_."  
  
"Again, we'll find out exactly what's going on in about four hours when you call that number from this burner, but that's my first impression, is he's clearing Toronto and he needs that time to get prepared for the trip and get some distance away before you call him and he tells us what's going on."  
  
"Why doesn't he just ask us to use the _palantir_?" Sören asked.  
  
"Because it can be interfered with," Maglor said, "or potentially intercepted by someone like, say, Sauron. Who we know is at large after the Dagorath. When Olórin would choose to use modern technology over magic, it's for very good reason."  
  
"So what do we do now?"  
  
"We wait," Maglor said, "but we're going to wait on the assumption that we're going to be taking a trip via the Portal. I'll check the map for routes once we've talked to Olórin again -"  
  
"We also need to talk to Charlie," Dooku said. "As loath as I am to get MI6 involved in this if something has happened..."  
  
"No, you're absolutely right," Maglor said. "I'd rather we hold off on calling her until we have more details about the situation -"  
  
"Of course," Dooku said.  
  
"But I'm guessing that whatever it is, we're going to _have_ to tell Charlie." Maglor sipped his coffee and looked at the clock. "So now we wait."  
  
It was going to be the longest four hours of Sören Sigurdsson's life.  
  
  
_  
  
  
At ten AM on the dot, Maglor took the burner phone off the charger. "If you don't mind, Sören, I'm going to make the call," Maglor said, waving his hand so the little notebook where Sören had recorded Olórin's other cell number floated over to him. "If he's worried about who can overhear, it might be better to conduct the conversation in a language that isn't as easily understood as English or another modern tongue." With that, Maglor dialed the number. Olórin picked up on the first ring - Sören heard him say "hello?" - and Maglor replied with, " _Aiya, man cárat?_ " There was a chuckle from Olórin, who replied in Quenya, and from there Maglor got up and went down the hall to the studio room, and Sören half-listened to the flow of the beautiful ancient language, the rise and fall of Maglor's voice, the distress and sympathy.  
  
Sören's heart raced again and Dooku grabbed Sören's hand and squeezed, then his thumb stroked the palm. He kissed Sören's cheek, and Sören nuzzled Dooku's beard and leaned on him. After a moment Dooku patted his lap, and Sören sat on his lap, Dooku holding him, cradling and petting him. That was how Maglor found them when he returned from the studio room, giving them a fond smile before his face drew stern and serious again.  
  
"What did Olórin say?" Sören asked.  
  
Maglor sat in the armchair and folded his hands on his knees, leaning forward, frowning, looking like he was trying to figure out how to deliver whatever bomb had just been dropped on him. Then he leaned back. "All right," he said, and took a deep breath. He met Sören's eyes. "Last night he was the babysitter while Dag and Matt went out for Dag's birthday. Dag... never returned. He's been checking news reports, police reports on a scanner to see if there was an accident, but... nothing."  
  
"Oh my god." Sören felt an icy hand claw the pit of his stomach. He remembered the nightmare he had last night and shivered... "I had... a bad dream last night... that Dag disappeared."  
  
"Yeah." Maglor nodded. "Well, he's gone. And the fact that Olórin didn't sense any danger beforehand, he has a feeling there was some kind of interference, that whatever happened was... orchestrated. That's bad news, regardless of what specifically happened or who was responsible. Which currently, we just don't know."  
  
"So what do we do now?"  
  
"He can't keep the girls indefinitely," Maglor said, "and you're the godfather. Dag specifically wanted _you_ to look after them if something ever happened."  
  
Sören nodded. "He did." And Sören felt a pang of guilt for having felt jealous of his brother having children.  
  
"So... he wants us to come to Canada to collect them. He thinks it would be safer for us to go by Portal rather than fly, because flying carries more of a risk of being intercepted or interfered with."  
  
"That makes sense," Dooku said.  
  
"I have to get out the map I was left with and look at the Portals in Canada but there's not many, that much I remember." Maglor shook his head.  
  
"Did he say where he's going?" Sören asked.  
  
"He's going to Thunder Bay, Ontario," Maglor said. "That's about a fourteen-hour drive one way from Toronto -"  
  
" _Jesus_ ," Sören said.  
  
"Why Thunder Bay specifically?" Dooku asked.  
  
"The Sleeping Giant," Maglor said. "Apparently Olórin... knows him." He shrugged.  
  
"Wait, you called it a he. It's a rock formation, from what I remember seeing on a documentary years ago." Dooku raised an eyebrow.  
  
"I called it a he, yes, Olórin spoke of the Sleeping Giant like a person. None of us should be surprised that maybe a rock formation isn't just a rock formation." Maglor's lips quirked.  
  
"OK. So... we're going to Thunder Bay," Sören said, "to get my nieces. My goddaughters. We need to make a plan..."  
  
"The first thing we need to do is call Charlie," Maglor said. "For a lot of reasons."  
  
"I'll make the call." Sören said. He groaned. "She's not going to like this."  
  
"Do it from the burner," Maglor said, using the Force to pass it over.  
  
Sören used Charlie's business card for the number. After three rings Charlie picked up. "Hello, this is Charlie Audley."  
  
"Charlie. This is Sören Sigurdsson."  
  
A pause. "Oh." Then, "Sören, this is a different number than your usual. What's going on?"  
  
"A lot."  
  
"That... doesn't sound good."  
  
"No, it's not."  
  
"Are you in immediate danger?"  
  
Sören answered honestly. "I don't know. Maybe? Possibly? Probably not?"  
  
"All... right." Charlie muttered " _shit_ " under her breath. Then, "Go slowly, calmly. Tell me what's happened, to the best of your ability."  
  
"Dag, my brother, is missing."  
  
"Missing."  
  
"Mhm."  
  
"As of when?"  
  
"Last night."  
  
"So it's not been twenty-four hours yet -"  
  
"No, it hasn't, but..." Sören exhaled sharply. "It was our birthday yesterday. Dag and his husband went out and they left his kids with a babysitter, our friend Brian Proust."  
  
"Ah, Proust." MI6 knew of him, but he had politely declined their protection program. "Go on."  
  
"Dag never came back. Brian's been checking the news and has a scanner to listen to police reports but there's been nothing..."  
  
"And you're very sure that he's just gone missing. That he's not out late, maybe he had a bit to drink..." A little sigh. "That he hasn't just straight up abandoned his children -"  
  
"Fuck _no_ ," Sören said. "No on both fucking counts. Listen, you must have a personality profile on him, you should realize he isn't like that, he wouldn't do something like that."  
  
"I do realize that, Sören, please understand that in my line of work I have to ask these uncomfortable questions in times like this, because yes, even though we do in fact have a profile on him and such behavior would be uncharacteristic, he did go to the emergency room in October following a fainting episode and never followed up with a physician's visit and sometimes certain health issues can create personality changes."  
  
"OK, well, I'm telling you, even if that's the case and I doubt it, he wouldn't just _abandon his fucking children_..." Sören felt a hot flash of anger.  
  
"All right, fair enough. No offense was intended." Charlie exhaled. "What are you going to do now?"  
  
"I'm his daughters' godfather. He wanted me to look after them if something happened. So I have to go to Canada."  
  
"Shall I procure airline tickets -"  
  
"No, Brian wants me to use the Portal system - the gates, as you guys call it. Go to Canada without flying. He thinks that flying is too risky, like we might be in danger too, or..."  
  
"Well, it's hard to know whether that's the case or not without knowing specifically what happened to your brother. Here's what I'm going to do, Sören, before you go to the trouble of going off to Canada, I'm going to conduct a little sweep. Check all surveillance cameras in the greater Toronto area - traffic cameras, security cameras used by department stores and supermarkets, that sort of thing... both within the last twenty-four hours and over the last ninety days, with recognition software to pick out your brother. The reason why I'm going back ninety days is because if he did disappear, he may have been watched and we may get a clue as to who or what was watching him. The nature of his disappearance is something I'd rather get a pulse on before you go off into what's potentially a hot zone."  
  
"Brian's not staying in Toronto -"  
  
"Even so. Depending on what was behind the disappearance, you may in fact be in danger yourselves, so I'd like to determine that first. Also, do you recall if Dag said anything about where he was going or what he was doing for his birthday?"  
  
"He said he was going to a Marvel movie and out to have Thai food."  
  
"Brilliant, that will help with the search. OK, Sören, this sweep will take me approximately two hours. Can you promise me that you won't do anything until I call you to let you know what we found?"  
  
Sören swallowed hard and nodded. "I promise." As much as he hated waiting and not doing anything in a situation like this, he knew it was the only thing he could do, safely.  
  
"Is this a safe number to call you?"  
  
Sören looked at Maglor. "Can she call me back on this phone, or..."  
  
"Let's not risk it," Maglor said. He produced another burner, and gave Sören its number, which Sören recited to Charlie.  
  
"All right," Charlie said after she got the number. "Two hours, then we'll take it from there."  
  
  
_  
  
  
Sören went with Maglor to walk Huan, taking a longer walk than usual. Sören felt paranoid the entire time, looking over his shoulder every few minutes, jumping if a car drove past them slowly even though it was winter weather and that was the safest way to drive in these conditions.  
  
They got back just before the two-hour mark and Dooku made hot chocolate to help soothe Sören, who sat in front of the fireplace surrounded by purring cats. Sören wondered just how radically his life was about to change - if they were going to have to leave Akureyri - when the burner rang.  
  
Sören picked up. "Hello."  
  
"Hi Sören, this is Charlie. Are you sitting down?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"OK. There was an incident at the beginning of the month - your brother used telekinesis in a supermarket parking lot."  
  
"He. What." Sören gasped. "Usually he's more careful -"  
  
"This wasn't a usual scenario. There was what appears to be a homeless woman, who tried to attack them..."  
  
Sören's heart sank, remembering the nightmare he had with the homeless-looking woman who changed into Thor. Sören felt self-conscious about saying _that homeless woman wasn't a homeless woman_ , even though Charlie's department at MI6 was aware at least a few non-humans walked the Earth.  
  
"There is a department store at the plaza where your brother went for Thai food last night and there was... interference with the security camera that looks out at the parking lot. For about fifteen minutes. Like somebody hacked the camera. Your brother's car is still in the parking lot."  
  
"Oh my god." Sören felt like he was going to throw up. "Oh my _god_..."  
  
"I have an agent talking with one of the owners of the Thai restaurant as we speak... he'll hop on in a conference call when he's got something..." There was a beep. "Oh... there he is. Hold on one second..."  
  
"Hello, Charlie, Sören, I'm here," came a man's voice, a strong baritone, British, well-cultured; if Sören didn't know better he would think Benedict Cumberbatch had joined the discussion, the voice a close match for the actor's. It was pleasant to listen to, Sören had a thing for deep, British voices, like Dooku's.  
  
"Speak of the devil... Anthony, hi. Please tell us what you found."  
  
"Well, this is one of the times when I'm very glad I took linguistics," Anthony said. "The gentleman I spoke with didn't want to trust me until I spoke to him in his language. Anyway, he was in fact working the front last night and he says that men matching the descriptions of the persons of interest went off with two men in suits, wearing sunglasses at night. Which..." Anthony chuckled. "Sounds like the Americans. Fucking amateurs..."  
  
"Or someone wanting us to think it's the Americans," Charlie said. "Which is its own can of worms."  
  
"Quite."  
  
"OK, thank you, Anthony, I'll take it from here -"  
  
"No problem." A pause. "I hope your brother is found, Sören."  
  
That touch of kindness was like a punch in the gut. Sören felt the tears coming on, threatening to break him. Sören took a few deep breaths, trying to pull himself together.  
  
"OK, Sören. We have ourselves a situation," Charlie said.  
  
"No shit."  
  
"No shit." Charlie clicked her tongue. "In light of the current circumstances, I would feel better if you stayed put and you let one of our agents go to wherever it is Proust is going and get the girls and bring them to you."  
  
"No," Sören said.  
  
"You do realize that if agents of some kind - the Americans or worse - have taken your brother, they've probably been tailing him... in fact not even probably, they've _definitely_ been tailing him, watching for the right moment to get him... and that means Proust may also be followed -"  
  
"Proust has magic," Sören said, feeling stupid as soon as it came out of his mouth. As far as he knew, MI6 didn't know Proust was the Maia Gandalf, only that Proust was not human, just like MI6 didn't know "Mark Lowry" was Maglor, only that he was not human, and Maglor said he'd never told the Americans specifically what he was when he'd been in captivity in the 1970s, experimented on and interrogated. "And..." He decided to just say it. "That homeless woman who attacked my brother, Dag never said anything to me about the incident, but I had a nightmare about her last night and she, ah. Shapeshifted into somebody else. Somebody not human." Sören wasn't going to say _the Norse god Thor_ , because that sounded completely mad and he needed Charlie to take him seriously right now. "So it's possible that whatever took Dag isn't even human -"  
  
"Even if the person Dag had an incident with that led him to expose himself in public wasn't human, it is still highly likely that the people who took him _are_. Precisely because he _did_ expose himself in public with the kind of gifts he has, and he's a high-profile scientist, he worked at NASA for awhile, he likely knows things that could be... well... not good for the Americans if it got into the wrong hands."  
  
 _We'll look into it_ came Donald Trump's voice in Sören's head. Sören wanted to scream.  
  
Charlie went on, "Regardless, it's not Proust I'm worried about - it's you. So I'd feel safer if I sent someone to pick up the girls, someone trained to handle conflicts if they arise -"  
  
"With all due respect, Charlie, _I'd_ feel safer if I did it myself. Listen. Dag made me their godfather because he wanted me to look after them if something happened. Me. I don't know your agents, I'm sure they're very nice, you know, when... they're not shooting terrorists and stuff, I guess. But I don't know them, and right now, especially after what happened with my brother disappearing, being _taken_ , I don't trust what I don't know. For example, I don't know that you don't have a breach in your agency, a mole of some kind -"  
  
"We're doing a stronger security sweep than usual right now to make absolutely sure of that," Charlie said. "The first people we have to investigate in this situation is us, that there's not some link between us and whoever took your brother."  
  
"Even so. Even if everyone checks out. I just... don't trust anyone to get those girls out of there safely and into my care but me. I know you don't like it, but I'm not asking you, _I'm telling you_ , I'm going to Canada to get my goddaughters. I made a promise to my brother, _I gave him my word._ "  
  
There was a very long pause. Sören's fists clenched.  
  
Charlie sighed. "Fine."  
  
Sören realized then that he'd been holding his breath, and it came out in little gasps. He was shaking again.  
  
"If you're going to be a stubborn arse about it, I won't stop you. However, I'd like to butt my head in at least a little, to keep things under control as much as I can. Starting with some protocol that I'd prefer you follow."  
  
"I won't say no to free advice from the professionals," Sören said. "I may seem reckless, but I want to do this right."  
  
"Right, so... if you're using the Portals, I'd prefer that you use the least-trafficked ones. I know you're leaving by the Dimmuborgir, which, lucky for you, doesn't get a lot of visitors this time of year. But wherever you're coming into Canada, the more remote, the better. We're already going to have our hands tied between trying to find out whoever took your brother, and trying to get him back if we can find that out, _and_ trying to find out if it's just your brother they're after or if you and your other relatives are potentially in danger. That's a lot of manpower on the ground for our small department -"  
  
"One more reason for me to go to Canada myself, then."  
  
"Listen, Sören, I wouldn't mind sparing an agent to go to Canada to get the girls, or even to come with you to get the girls if you'd rather -"  
  
"No."  
  
"But yes, as far as monitoring the Portals goes so we don't have another incident like the one in England where you were spotted at the Smithy... we don't really have the capacity to do that. So we're going to trust your judgment to use a terminus that won't create an incident, or if it does... you'll have to deal with it yourself by any means necessary, do you understand what I mean by that?"  
  
"Uh..."  
  
"Do you have a gun, Sören?"  
  
" _What._ " He blinked. The idea of shooting someone made him feel even more nauseated. "Uh. Well. Mark has a gun..."  
  
"If he's coming, bring it. Bring it anyway. Hopefully you won't have to use it -"  
  
" _Jesus._ " If this had been pre-immortality, Sören knew he'd be having an asthma attack right now, if he hadn't already had one.  
  
"In addition to using a more remote, low traffic Portal, I need you to stay off the radar as much as possible. I'm going to send you a little care package in two hours. It will include cash, Canadian currency. Do not use plastic, not even under Mark's aliases. As much as you're going to hate this, it would be better if you could keep out of hotels altogether - at least on the way to get the girls, I know winter camping with them on the way back might be more of an issue with the freezing temperatures... but we don't want to risk someone being able to give a description to authorities if things get hot."  
  
"You really think..."  
  
"I don't know _what_ to think and that's part of the problem. We have to account for all possible scenarios, including the worst-case one where you and your sister are also being targeted. I don't want to completely go off the deep end with panic, it's prudent to see how things play out a bit more before we start making decisions that impact you more long-term, for a number of reasons one of which being the aforementioned manpower, but for right now, plan to limit dealing with other humans as much as possible, except when it can't be avoided."  
  
"OK."  
  
"Finally... I need to know where you're coming in, and where you'll be going when it's time to return, if it's the same Portal or two different ones. Even though we can't monitor, I still need to have an idea -"  
  
"We'll know once we check the map."  
  
"And am I correct in assuming it's all three of you who are going?"  
  
"Yes. That would be the plan."  
  
"OK. Watch for a drone drop in your backyard in two hours, and I'll be in touch with you then. I expect you to be able to tell me where you're coming in. In the meantime, you should pack for a winter camping trip. If you don't have gear, there's a sporting goods store in town -"  
  
"Yes, I know." Sören was vaguely annoyed, since he'd lived in Akureyri most of his life, but he also realized Charlie might be anticipating that he wasn't thinking straight in his panic and he knew from his experience as a hospital intern years ago - what felt like a lifetime ago - that people in panic could forget the simplest things.  
  
"Again, don't use plastic if you can avoid it, pay everything with cash."  
  
"OK."  
  
"OK. I'll talk to you in two hours, Sören." The call ended.  
  
Dooku and Maglor looked at him expectantly. "Well?" Dooku asked.  
  
"We're going on an adventure," Sören said, frowning.  
  
  
_  
  
  
There were very few Portals in Canada, and the one that looked the most remote and the least likely to have visitor traffic gawking at the dramatic entrance was at the Slave River in the Northwest Territories, near Fort Smith.  
  
Maglor used a VPN network to mask the IP address, and looked up the trip from Fort Smith, Northwest Territories to Thunder Bay, Canada on Google Maps. He let out a low whistle and shook his head. "I knew that was a bit of a distance but _Eru_ , that's ridiculous."  
  
"How bad is it?" Dooku asked.  
  
"Thirty-five hours one way." Maglor scowled. "At seven hours of driving a day that's five days, if it's ten hours we can make it in four, but with the limited daylight and winter weather conditions and having to take time to make camp and all of that and factoring in rest stops, it would be safer to go with the seven hour a day plan. That means we're going to be gone at least ten days, longer if we run into issues."  
  
"Jesus," Sören said. He pet Snúdur, who came over to headbutt him. "We're going to have to find someone to pet-sit. Actually..." Sören went to the bedroom to get his own cell phone, then he used the Force to grab the burner off the coffee table. He looked up Margrét's number on his cell then dialed it on the burner, and glanced at the clock - it was almost one PM now, around the time she'd start waking up.  
  
Four rings and just before Sören could worry about it going to voice mail, Margrét answered, her voice raspy from sleep and grumpy from interruption. "What."  
  
"It's Sören."  
  
"Sören? What... why are you calling me from this number? Where's your phone -"  
  
" _Venenya vilyanirwanen ná quanta as angolingwi._ "  
  
There was a long pause. Then Margrét said, "Well, hakuna matata to you too..."  
  
Sören facepalmed and laughed despite himself; the laughter was just what he needed right now. " _Takk._ " He took a few deep breaths. "I need you to come up. Now. Fly up -" He was pretty sure that even if they were being tailed, there was not much that could go wrong on a forty-five minute flight to the tiny airport in Akureyri, and he would worry less with the shorter trip. "And drive back down, if possible. I'll explain when you get here."  
  
"And you mean now."  
  
"I mean now. Again, I'll explain when you get here, but I need you to get your ass on the next flight."  
  
"All of us, or..."  
  
Sören considered and then he said, "All of you, if you can."  
  
"OK. Well, we'll see you soon, then."  
  
When Sören got off the phone Maglor handed him a cup of coffee.  
  
"So you're going to have your sister watch the critters?" Maglor asked.  
  
Sören nodded. "Though, technically, dogs aren't allowed in Reykjavik without a permit. I mean that shouldn't necessarily be an issue if she keeps cool about it -"  
  
"No, we don't want to give _any_ opportunity for trouble. We'll take Huan with us. I was thinking about that anyway, since... well..." Maglor gestured to the little Corgi/sheepdog mix, who barked in acknowledgment and came bounding over, wagging his tail excitedly. "It's Huan."  
  
Sören wondered, briefly, if Celegorm was around, if they too would ever be reunited. He got the vague feeling he was, but somewhere remote... Celegorm had never been one for people. _Probably has a shit-ton of animals._ "I won't say no but that might complicate things -"  
  
"Things are already complicated," Maglor said. "Besides, at the very least he can help with trying to keep our stress levels down." Huan barked again and flopped over for tummy rubs. "Isn't that right," Maglor cooed at the dog in baby talk. "You're a good boy, oh yes you are... yes you are, you're such a lovey little puppy. Such a good boy. Such a sweet little baby puppy..."  
  
Dooku's eyes twinkled and his lips quirked with amusement, watching Maglor get like this over the dog. He cleared his throat and Maglor snapped to attention. Sören tried not to laugh. "As you know, Macalaurë, we are going to need winter camping supplies. Now that we know we need to plan for roughly two weeks, shall we..."  
  
Maglor nodded. "Yes." Maglor looked at Sören. "We need someone to stay here and wait for the drop when it comes -"  
  
"I'll do that." Sören felt a massive wave of separation anxiety. "Please don't be gone long -"  
  
"Only as long as we need to. We'll be back soon, I promise." Maglor got up to give Sören a tight hug, and what was meant to be a sweet little kiss heated, their lips parting, tongues swirling, a needed reminder that there was more to life than fear and despair, there was also passion. When the kiss broke, the two of them breathing harder, Maglor slapped Sören's ass. Dooku hugged Sören then and also gave him a passionate kiss, and pulled away "before I get tempted," Dooku muttered, walking to the door to bundle up.  
  
Sören watched them get in the jeep and drive off, heart racing. _Please, be safe._  
  
It felt like the entire world was out to get them.  
  
  
_  
  
  
When it got closer to two PM, Sören sat in the backyard... or tried to sit. He began pacing around, feeling restless, feeling ready to jump out of his skin with anxiety. Already, the light was taking on that old-gold quality as it got closer to sunset - the sun would start to set in about an hour. Sören tried to distract himself by watching the golden light in the thick silver clouds, but then he thought of Finarfin and it made him sad all over again.  
  
 _Oh god, I wonder how Ara would react to Finrod going missing..._ Sören cringed and teared up.  
  
Before he could completely lose it and turn into a sobbing wreck, he heard the whirr of a drone and watched as it dropped a cardboard box into a snowbank. Sören scooped it up immediately and carried it inside. He cut the box open, his heart racing again.  
  
Just before he could use the Force to pull over the burner and call Charlie, he heard a muffled ringing from inside the box. He opened the box and began to pull out the tissue paper, and then he saw a satellite phone, big and bulky. He used the Force to lift it up, and he hit the talk button.  
  
"Hello?"  
  
"Hi, this is Charlie. I see you got the care package."  
  
"Já, I'm, ah... opening it right now."  
  
"All right. Put the phone down for a minute and look at what's in the package, if you've not done so yet."  
  
Sören did. Besides the satellite phone there were two briefcases. He opened them up and let out a small scream at how much money was in them, it looked like there was at least two hundred thousand Canadian dollars, a hundred thousand in each briefcase. Sören knew he had a lot more than that in the bank, Van had set all three of them up for life, but this was still the most money he'd ever seen at one time.  
  
"IT'S ALL IN SMALL BILLS," Charlie called out, as if she knew why Sören made the noise that he did. "LARGE BILLS WOULD ATTRACT TOO MUCH ATTENTION."  
  
"I SEE THAT," Sören called back, and then he picked up the phone again so he wouldn't alarm the neighbors. "That's still a lot of fucking money -"  
  
"Two hundred thousand," Charlie said, confirming Sören's estimate from the quick count and mental math that he did. "You probably won't need all of that but we wanted to err on the side of making sure you had enough in case you run into issues."  
  
"OK."  
  
"There's more in the box..."  
  
Sören put the phone back down. He saw two Glock pistols, with holsters. "Oh, _Jesus_ ," Sören swore. Between Maglor's gun and these, that was a gun for each of them.  
  
"What in the fuck," Sören said.  
  
There was an envelope with fake documents, passports for all three of them - and the two girls - and other identification. That somehow disturbed Sören as much as the guns did, and he didn't quite understand why.  
  
Sören got back on the phone. "Why the fuck do we have so many guns?" he hissed. "I don't even know how to use a gun -"  
  
"Mark does. Hopefully you won't need to use it, but... they're there just in case."  
  
" _Jesus._ "  
  
"And this is the satellite phone, which is more secure to use than a burner," Charlie said. "It will also work in remote areas where you wouldn't otherwise have cell services."  
  
"OK, that's a relief, at least."  
  
"Mmm. There are two numbers programmed into the phone on speed dial. First you would hit the speed dial button. One of the numbers is mine - press 1 after the speed dial button to reach me. The other is the number of Anthony Wyatt-Jones, press the speed button then 2 to reach him. _However_ , it must be said that you should not call Anthony unless you're fucked..."  
  
Sören desperately needed a moment of levity in the situation, thinking of the smooth voice he heard earlier. "So call Anthony if I want to fuck. Got it..."  
  
Charlie snorted. "He even plays for your team, too, but no Sören, with our department being as small as it is and us all having to pull double now that we have this shitstorm upon us, only call Anthony if you're in trouble and you can't get a hold of me - and it should go without saying that no matter what time it is, day or night, you call me if there's a problem. I'd rather be woken up at 2 AM than to wake up at my usual time and find out we've got an international incident on top of whatever else the fuck is going on here, you understand?"  
  
"I do."  
  
"But Anthony's number is there if something happens where you need me and can't reach me, and the same goes for him."  
  
"OK."  
  
"Likewise, if Anthony calls you... it means shit has hit the fan. Right now as things stand we're not expecting an escalation, but if it happens and I'm not available... well, he'll let you know."  
  
"OK."  
  
"I take it you're going to be leaving tonight."  
  
"Já, you said you wanted to know where -"  
  
"Yes. For my own reference, so Anthony and I have a rough idea of the route you're taking in case anything happens."  
  
"Fort Smith, Northwest Territories."  
  
"Fucking _hell._ "  
  
"You said someplace remote..."  
  
"I know what I bloody said." Charlie then muttered, "Sodding bloody wanking bollocks..." She cleared her throat and said, "Right, so that's a bit of a drive?"  
  
"Thirty-five hours one way. That's five days to Thunder Bay, five days coming back to the Portal, so we'll be gone roughly ten days." _I said I wanted to go on vacation, I didn't mean like this._  
  
"OK. So unless you run into issues you'd be returning to Akureyri on December fourth or fifth?"  
  
Sören did the mental math - it was November twenty-sixth. "Sounds about right."  
  
"If you think you're going to be later than that, even by a day or two, please let me know as soon as you know."  
  
"Will do."  
  
"And Sören, until we know _for sure_ what's happened to your brother - and that may take awhile - the police are not your friends. The government, any government, apart from those of us in this department at MI6, are not your friends. Random strangers, for all you know, could be undercover agents. Proceed with the utmost caution unless you are _sure_ someone is safe. I hate to ask you to be suspicious of everyone and anyone, but -"  
  
"I'm already there," Sören said. "Trust me."  
  
"All right then." Charlie exhaled sharply. "Good luck, Sören. Get those girls safe."  
  
"I will."  
  
The phone call ended, and Sören sat in the silence, his stomach like ice floating on choppy water, shaking with the cold grip of fear.  
  
 _You can do this,_ Sören told himself. _You have to do this. For your goddaughters._  
  
The thought fell on him like a ton of bricks: _Your daughters, now._  
  
This wasn't how Sören wanted to become a father, either. This was, in fact, the very last way he would have ever wanted to become a parent. Hopefully it would only just be temporary, hopefully MI6 would be combing traffic cams to see if they could get a lock on "the men in black" who took Dag and Matt, hopefully sooner rather than later they'd find him and break him out of wherever it was he was taken. And then Dag would be back with his children and Sören's life could return to usual, if not normal.  
  
But he couldn't shake the feeling that it was already too late, and this was his life now.  
  
 _Come on. You've been in other situations that seemed hopeless and things changed. Justin. Or when Maglor left, when Nico left, and they came back to you. It'll be all right._  
  
This wasn't like that. This was something else. Something worse. He thought of the nightmare he had last night. Obviously a lot of it was symbolic, but there seemed nuggets of truth - of precognition - in it as well.  
  
Sören shivered. "Jesus, I hate this," he muttered.  
  
Sören got up to have more coffee, even though he knew the jolt of caffeine probably wasn't helping. He ended up spilling coffee on his shirt as he fixed himself a cup, and went to the bathroom to try to rinse the stain; the water running made him have to pee. After he did his business, changed his shirt, and threw the old shirt in the laundry hamper, he heard a knock at the door, loud and firm.  
  
 _Oh shit._  
  
Sören came out of the bedroom. The knocking continued at the door. Sören's heart was in his throat, ears hammering, head spinning. Without thinking, he reached for one of the guns on the table, even though he didn't know how to use a gun. With the gun in his hand, kept at his side, discrete, he walked to the door, taking deep breaths, shaking, steeling himself to shoot if there were "men in black" there like the ones who had taken Dag. _On the count of three I open the door. One... two..._  
  
Sören opened the door and there was Margrét, Frankie, and Coldagnir. Sören let out an exhale of relief and Margrét pulled him into a tight hug. Then, as they walked in, she noticed the gun.  
  
" _Sören._ " Margrét had shock and horror written all over her face. "Sören, what the _hell_..."  
  
Sören used the Force to put the gun down on the coffee table, and he broke down sobbing.  
  
"ALL RIGHT, WHO DO I HAVE TO BEAT UP," Frankie roared. She glared. "Don't even tell me you ran into some friend or family of that creep Justin's and they're givin' you shit -"  
  
Sören shook his head. "No, it's worse," he choked out.  
  
Sören sat on the couch with Margrét and Frankie on either side of him, continuing to cry. Margrét used the Force to pass over a box of tissues. "Sören, _elskan_. What is it? Where's Maglor and Nicolae -"  
  
"They're at a sporting goods store getting, ah... gear to go camping."  
  
Coldagnir went to the kitchen; Sören heard him making everyone cups of coffee. "I called you because I'm gonna need you guys to watch the cats for the next two weeks or so."  
  
"And this is an emergency because..." Margrét raised an eyebrow.  
  
"Dag's gone." Sören broke down again. "MI6 is on it, they found out some dudes in suits _took him_ last night, god knows where... Brian Proust has the kids, we're about to go to Canada to get them but we have to take the Portal and stay off the radar and..." Sören wept on his sister's shoulder.  
  
"So wait, WHAT? DAG'S GONE?" Margrét tousled her brother's curls.  
  
Sören nodded. "We don't have all the information yet, but..." Sören sobbed some more. "I had a nightmare. Where he... he disappeared... and Thor and Odin were responsible, in some way..."  
  
Coldagnir came out with the coffee. "When you say responsible..."  
  
"So..." Sören pinched the bridge of his nose before using the Force to take his cup from Coldagnir with a mumbled " _takk_ ". "According to Charlie, earlier this month Dag used the Force out in public. She didn't get into the full detail but there was, like, a homeless woman that attacked him, I guess? And he never told me about it, but last night I had a nightmare that involved a woman who looked just like that and she shapeshifted into Thor..."  
  
"Wow." Margrét frowned.  
  
"And then Odin was laughing like it was hilarious. Which... I mean... do we think Odin took him?"  
  
"I think it's more likely that Thor disguised himself as human and created that incident to get Dag to expose himself which would be... of interest... to any number of groups here on Earth," Coldagnir said quietly. "International intelligence agencies. Terrorist cells. Mafia types, gangsters..."  
  
Margrét nodded. "If I was Odin, taking Dag to Asgard would be too easy. You'd already expect that. If I really wanted to fuck with you, I wouldn't make it that easy. Some group here on Earth taking him would be more his style."  
  
"Sometimes the gods use humans to do their work, whether or not the humans realize it," Coldagnir said. "That's my gut feeling, but those feelings are rarely wrong."  
  
"Fuck. This. Shit." Sören wept.  
  
Frankie pulled him close, pet him, rocked him. Coldagnir pet him too, and that was how Maglor and Dooku found them when they walked in some time later, loaded with supplies.  
  
Sören followed Maglor and Dooku into the bedroom to examine the gear. There was a toboggan for each of them. "To haul our shit till we can find a vehicle," Maglor said, "and after we drop off said vehicle, we have a bit of a hike to the Portal." There was a dome tent that would be plenty big enough for the two of them. Flashlights, a big light so they could see what they were doing to set up a tent in the dark. Thermal sleeping bags, blankets. Several changes of heavy winter clothing for all three of them, plus winter clothes for babies. "I made a guess as to what size Carrie and Maedelle are," Maglor said, "and erred on the side of going bigger than what they need." There was baby formula, bottles, and jars of baby food, small bags of dog food, gallons of water, and non-perishable food like jerky and trail mix. "Though I assume we'll be stopping for food at restaurants along the way." There were personal hygiene kits, a "thunder bucket", baby wipes, diapers... car seats for the babies, a collapsible stroller that could be fitted with small skis to be pushed in the snow...  
  
"Shit, we're gonna be pack mules," Sören said.  
  
"At first," Maglor said, nodding. "I'll carry the heaviest load. Once we've got a vehicle it'll be easier."  
  
"Charlie sent us a satellite phone, and two hundred thousand Canadian dollars, and fake IDs, and... guns." Sören made a face.  
  
"The satellite phone was good thinking on her part," Maglor said. "We probably won't have cell reception for shit most of our trip and we need to make sure we stay in touch with Olórin in case he has to move again or... I don't know."  
  
"Let's get this packed," Dooku said. "The sooner we're on our way, the better off we'll be."  
  
Maglor nodded. "We're seven hours ahead of Yellowknife, so the good news is that buys us some daylight, it won't be dark right away when we arrive."  
  
"Should we, ah... look at pictures of where we're going?" Sören asked. "That thing with potentially getting lost in the Portal if -"  
  
"I think it's more if you just step in and you don't really have a set place or time in mind, but always better to be safe than sorry. And it might calm you down a little." Maglor patted Sören.  
  
"Yes, we can handle the packing," Dooku said. "You can go take a look at our destination. Make sure you use the VPN -"  
  
"I will."  
  
"Oh, by the way? Not to weigh us down even more but I think it's a good idea to bring at least a couple of non-winter outfits," Maglor said.  
  
"Why? It's gonna be cold as balls in Canada, right?" Sören was confused.  
  
"Yes, but if we end up in a hotel with the girls on a particularly cold night, it might not be so cold in there. And, well. You never know. I'd like to be prepared for just about anything."  
  
Something about that statement set Sören's teeth on edge, the _oh shit_ feeling returning, but Sören's anxiety was already ratcheted up a ridiculous degree, so he wasn't going to try to dwell on why Maglor would think that was necessary. Before Sören could leave the bedroom, Maglor said, "And one more thing."  
  
"Hm."  
  
"Go across the hall and get the Silmarils."  
  
Sören turned around and snorted. "You don't think they'll be safe here for two weeks -"  
  
"Ada, nothing is safe right now. Get the damn Silmarils. Besides, they'll provide us with an extra source of light and heat."  
  
Being asked to bring the Silmarils on their adventure - where Sören had more fear of them getting lost than he did if they were at home - also set off his anxiety, but Sören did as Maglor asked. While he was at it Sören also got the pearl-and-diamond collar-and-leash that Finarfin gave him in the Timeless Halls, wanting a tangible reminder of Finarfin for comfort, and tucked the collar-and-leash into his pocket.  
  
"Hmm, maybe I should carry the Silmarils on my person, in my coat, rather than throwing them in a backpack or something," Sören said once he'd gotten the tiara.  
  
"If you think they'll be safer that way -" Maglor then looked past Sören, and Sören saw Margrét, Coldagnir and Frankie coming up behind him.  
  
"Anything we can do to help besides take the cats?" Margrét asked.  
  
"More sets of hands might make the packing go faster," Coldagnir said.  
  
"Uh... sure." Maglor looked down - Sören knew he was still uncomfortable with Coldagnir but wasn't going to refuse the offer of help.  
  
"Come on," Sören said, taking Frankie's hand. "I'll show you where we're going."  
  
Sören took his laptop into the guest bedroom and he and Frankie flomped onto the bed together. The cats hopped up on the bed for pettings, as if they knew Sören needed the extra comfort but also somehow knew he'd be away for a bit. Already this hurt, Sören tearing up again as he pet and skritched them. After the VPN gave them a new fake IP address in another country, Sören first showed Frankie the route from Fort Smith to Thunder Bay, which made her gasp, eyes wide.  
  
"Fucking _hell_ , Sören..."  
  
Then they looked at pictures of the Slave River - especially the rapids - and Fort Smith, the Northwest Territories itself...  
  
"So pretty, but wow. Wow, that's... remote."  
  
Sören nodded. "They've got trees. Lots and lots of trees."  
  
"I guess so." Frankie sighed. "I kind of want to go with you, but..."  
  
Sören gave her a little kiss. "I wish you could, but as it is, we don't know how dangerous this is gonna be."  
  
"What, you think they're following Gandalf? What would the Feds, or whatever it was, want with two babies and an old man?"  
  
"I don't know, but if they know the old man has powers, and they think the babies are Force sensitive like Dag is..." Sören cringed.  
  
" _Jesus._ " Frankie scowled. "Fuckin' bastards."  
  
"I'm trying to not, you know... be negative. Trying to not assume everything is the worst-case scenario. But." Sören's jaw trembled, tears spilling down his cheeks. "I'm scared. I don't know what happened to my brother, if I'll ever see him again..." Sören let out a sob. "I don't even know if I'll see you again -"  
  
"Oh, Sören." Frankie smoothed his curls, kissed his forehead, kissed the tip of his nose, began to kiss his tears. "Sören, you know you bloody well _will_ see me again. If anyone comes at me I'll give them hell. I'll give them _levels of hell_."  
  
Sören chuckled. "Even federal agents with guns?"  
  
"Fuck them, and fuck their guns." Frankie growled. Then she gave Sören a look. "Don't even say 'fucking guns is kinky, Frankie'..."  
  
Sören laughed. Now he was tearing up for a different reason. "Wow. I'm so fucked up right now I wasn't even thinking that..."  
  
"Sure, Sören."  
  
Sören grabbed her and kissed her. One kiss became another, then another. Sören used the Force to close the guest bedroom door.  
  
They undressed quickly, feverishly. It seemed a bit surreal to be going at it when all hell was breaking loose, but Sören didn't know if he'd ever see her again, or anyone, and so they needed this. And if nothing else, it was comfort. It was an escape.  
  
Frankie and Sören stood to get the rest of their clothes off, and then Frankie flung herself at Sören and Sören pressed her up against the wall. He picked her up off the floor and she wrapped her arms and legs around him, the wall supporting her. His hard cock slid against her clit, her pussy lips - she was already wet. "Fuck," Sören gasped, laughing.  
  
"You get me wet like this, Sören." Frankie kissed him hard. "Now shut up and fuck me."  
  
Sören took her, kissing her deeply as he pushed into her. Frankie began to rock her hips, and Sören matched her rhythm, driving into her. They kissed again and again, drinking each other's cries. The hot, needy fuck against the wall got them both on that edge right away, lost in lust for each other, the shameless, wanton abandon to passion, pleasure, the hunger, that urge to mate, rut, claim each other. Sören didn't just feel how wet Frankie was but now he could hear it, the sloppy suctioning as his cock pumped in and out of her. Frankie panted between kisses, gasped, "yes, fuck me, fuck me Sören, hard..." and then his teeth were on her neck and Frankie let out a scream, bucking against him even harder.  
  
Sören reached out to touch her with the Force as they fucked, whispering caresses over her soft skin and lush curves, invisible touches from her nipples down to her clit, finally rubbing her with his mind, Frankie getting more vocal as his cock plunged away inside her. And at last their eyes met and Frankie moaned, "I'm gonna come."  
  
Now Sören felt more like himself. "Hi Gonna Come -"  
  
"Cunt." Frankie kissed him as fiercely as she could and two thrusts later Sören felt her walls clenching, throbbing, juices gushing. Sören let go with a cry, spending deep inside her, the tension melting out of him as her tight, silken heat continued to pulse around his cock.  
  
"I love you," Sören whispered.  
  
"I love you too."  
  
With Frankie still on his cock, arms and legs around him, Sören walked backwards to the bed and sat on the edge, Frankie sitting on his lap. For a few minutes they just held each other, offering what feeling of safety - that they had each other's back - that they could.  
  
Once they were dressed, Sören and Frankie came out with guilty grins. The packing was almost finished.  
  
It was time to get the cats ready. Sören got out their food and litter, which Margrét, Frankie and Coldagnir could take on their drive down to Reykjavik. Then he got their cat carriers. Sören teared up again as he wrangled the cats into their carriers, knowing how much they hated this. He hated this; he was going to miss them so much... even ten days was too long.  
  
Margrét put a hand on her brother's shoulder. "They'll be in good hands. We'll spoil them."  
  
"I feel so guilty. My little babies..." Sören sniffled and the tears broke once more.  
  
Margrét gave him a hug. "They'll be fine. Really. Hell, they're even immortal, so..."  
  
Sören pulled back and gave his sister a stern look. "You know, especially in light of Dag disappearing... it would be a weight off my shoulders if you and Frankie, like... you know." Sören sighed. "Became immortal yourselves."  
  
"Jæja, we're... still thinking about it," Margrét said. "Matt had some very valid points for why he didn't want to take Van's blood - all this global warming... look what it's done to Iceland, for fuck's sake, in two hundred years this won't be the same country anymore and that's _best case scenario_ with the least amount of temperature change possible... and the way countries are moving farther to the right is scary... the way it looks like we might have World War Three is scary and who knows what the fuck it'll do to the world..."  
  
"Oh great, more stuff to worry about," Sören said.  
  
"But even above and beyond all of that..." Margrét pursed her lips. "When you guys have to start moving around, you have to be careful to go to a place where, you know, you're not going to end up in jail or worse for sodomy. Me? It's 2020 and I still get occasional shit for being trans here in Iceland. _Iceland._ Which is one of the most progressive countries in the world on LGBT shit. If I become immortal and I have to start relocating every decade or so, well... there's a limited amount of places _now_ where it's legal to be what I am, and even then it's not 100% safe there, murder rates, assault rates, are still pretty high... Just because I don't age anymore and I might be harder to kill doesn't mean that I can't be killed. Or that people can't try to make my life fucking miserable in other ways." Margrét shook her head. "And with the way the world is going it might get even more unsafe for me. I love Coldagnir with all my heart. But he knows that it's not as easy for me to just up and go wherever, as it is for you to go with Maglor. It's not a hard no, but it's something I need to think about some more. It's a wait and see."  
  
"OK." Sören nodded. "I just... you know. I'll miss you... if..." He couldn't finish the sentence.  
  
"I know, baby brother." Margrét held him tight. "I know. But I need more time to think about it. And well, another reason besides following a sun god around, love him though I do."  
  
There was an awkward, painful silence as they held each other - Margrét and Sören desperately clung, after what had happened with Dag, not wanting to let go, not wanting to face the possibility of being separated again.  
  
But finally Maglor and Dooku were pulling their toboggans down the hall as a test run, Coldagnir pulling Sören's. Sören saw that Maglor's was in fact packed a bit more densely than the other two, with Sören's being the lightest, and Sören facepalmed and laughed when he saw the largest object on Maglor's toboggan. "You're bringing the fucking war harp with you. _Really._ I thought this was a packing what you need to survive thing..."  
  
"This is what I need to survive," Maglor said. "If I don't have music, well..."  
  
"On that note we're also bringing the portable mp3 player," Dooku said, "and our various playlists."  
  
"OK. Well, I better..." Sören grabbed his colored pencils and his current sketchbook, and then he opened up a hollow hardcover book on the bookshelf and took out his past sketchbooks, which were full, but he could look through them to get inspired, or have some nostalgia. "There."  
  
They also packed the laptop, in case they were someplace that had wi-fi. Sören called the last number they had for Olórin on the satellite phone. "We're heading out now," Sören said. "It's going to take us five days to get there."  
  
"That's fine," Olórin said. "I assumed it might take a week or so."  
  
Sören, Maglor and Dooku got changed into heavier winter clothing and Maglor put Huan's little dog sweater on. Frankie and Coldagnir would wait at the house in Akureyri with the cats for Margrét's return pickup, while Margrét took Sören, Dooku and Maglor with Huan in her rental jeep to the Dimmuborgir - they didn't want to drive there themselves and have the jeep parked there for ten days, which would look suspicious. They were quiet on the way down; Sören was trying not to cry again. He leaned on Maglor, who pet and cuddled him on the drive.  
  
At the Dimmuborgir, Margrét sat in the jeep as they got out and began unloading. It was pitch black now, the stars hanging above the Dimmuborgir like a sea of diamonds.  
  
"You're not gonna walk up with us, see us out?" Sören asked.  
  
"I'll be tempted to either not let you leave, or make the jump with you, so no," Margrét said. She gave Sören a sad look, fighting tears of her own. "We'll see you in a couple weeks, OK? Kitties will be fine. Be safe out there. Get my nieces and..." Her voice trailed off. She looked away and closed her eyes, tears silently flowing.  
  
The toboggan was as hard to pull as Sören thought it would be, cursing every moment and this entire idea. _I have to do it. Have to do it for my nieces, my goddaughters._ And there it was again. _My daughters._  
  
The arch was starting to glow. Sören looked up and there was the aurora again, green and violet and gold. He paused for a moment, his breath taken away, and then Maglor nudged him. "I'm sorry," Maglor said, "but we have to keep moving."  
  
The arch felt like a furnace as they came closer. Sören took one last look at the green and violet lights, and then the world went ultraviolet as he stepped under the arch and felt the jump, like an elevator going down at the speed of light. Huan whined. Sören remembered the night before Edenel and Coldagnir left for the Dagorath when he and the family were at the club and "1999" by Prince played:  
  
 _The sky was all purple  
There were people runnin' everywhere  
Tried to run from my destruction  
You know I didn't even care_  
  
And one Prince song became another:  
  
 _Tell me, are we gonna let the elevator bring us down  
Oh, no let's go!  
  
Let's go crazy  
Let's get nuts  
Look for the purple banana  
'Til they put us in the truck, let's go!_  
  
Sören forced himself to concentrate, even as much as his stomach hated that feeling of dropping, hurtling down down down... He conjured up the pictures he'd seen of Fort Smith in his mind's eye, the river...  
  
...and they were there. It had been close to six PM in Iceland when they'd left, now doing the mental math it was close to eleven AM here. They came out into blue sky, freezing air. Sören gasped at the frozen river and the nearby rapids, creating a fine mist, and the seemingly endless frost-covered trees, the thick snow on the ground. If the Botanical Garden covered in snow and ice had looked like an enchanted winter kingdom, this was so much moreso. Huan barked, wagging his tail excitedly.  
  
"We're here." Maglor had the satellite phone out, using its GPS. "Welcome to Canada."  
  
"Eh?" Sören quipped.


	27. King In the North

**King In the North**

  
  
  
Dooku could see very well why one of the Portals was here at the Slave River - the Portals were all at sacred sites or otherwise numinous, liminal places, and even in winter, the river was a thing of power, and there was a majesty among the trees. It was one of the last pristine, wild, unspoiled places on Earth, where the land thrummed with the Living Force in such a way that even men who had been gods in another universe felt small and humble in its presence.  
  
Dooku also had the unsettling sense of déjà vu. He had a suspicion when he saw the map of the Portal network that all the Portals around the world were places Elves had been long ago at one point or another, even far-off Africa and Australia. Here and now, that suspicion felt confirmed as he pulled the weight of the toboggan behind him and had the feeling he'd done this very same thing before, in this very same place, ages ago.  
  
 _The Helcaraxë._  
  
Dooku swallowed hard. It was certainly a lot different now - they were under a blue sky instead of darkness. Instead of being a frozen wasteland there was evergreen forest. There were no burning ships. He was hungry - it was close to six PM in Iceland when they left, around their usual time for dinner - but not starving. They had been through a lot, they were in a sort of war now, but it was not as severe as it had been in those days.  
  
And yet. As much as he wanted to savor the glory of this place, he'd never seen anything like it with the endless evergreens, the huge frozen river and the rapids rushing up ahead, each step he took was a bitter reminder of what they had been, what they had lost.  
  
It had been the last time he'd seen Finarfin, who in Araman had turned back to go to Valinor at the insistence of Fëanor. _Tell them thou hast renounced me. For the sake of thy children._ Dooku had the sudden, mad thought that they were on their way back across the Helcaraxë to be reunited with Finarfin some way somehow, and he shoved it away, not wanting to hope, when so much hope had been shattered.  
  
But even more bitter than the loss of his youngest brother, had been the strife between Fingolfin and his eldest brother... his lover... the other half of his soul. _Ai, Fëanor._ He could see the burning ships at Losgar now in his mind's eye, he could _feel_ the madness of Fëanor in those days, who had already felt abandoned and betrayed and forsaken by his gods, his own wife, showing no mercy no quarter to those who were not with him all the way, who had spoken ill of him in those dark, cold, starving, hurting, trying days. _Let those that cursed my name, curse me still, and whine their way back to the cages of the Valar._  
  
He had cursed that name, in his heart, and yet he still loved him. Loved him in his audacity, his mean, stubborn pride, that refusal to surrender even unto the Doom.  
  
To Dooku here and now it seemed especially fitting that when all hope seemed lost, when it felt like the Doom was weighing upon them the most heavily it ever had - when they were about to go forth into what had been Beleriand, where the reborn Finrod had made a home for over a decade - he and Fëanor were here again, this time standing together. Indivisible. Unbowed, unbroken.  
  
 _Thou shalt lead, and I will follow._  
  
His eyes met Sören's then and he knew Sören could feel it, too. Sören reached out to take his hand, warmth radiating through their gloves.  
  
And then Sören just paused in his tracks, let go of the handle of his toboggan for a moment, and threw his arms around Dooku. "Oh, Ñolo," he choked out, hugging Dooku tight. Sören let out a little sob and tears stung Dooku's eyes as well.  
  
Maglor cleared his throat. Sören and Dooku looked at him and he was getting emotional too, feeling everything across their bond, and his own memories. "Uh, I'm not trying to be a dick or anything, but -"  
  
"There's no need to try," Sören said. "You're my son, you come by it honestly."  
  
Dooku _ugly_ laughed at that, hearing himself guffaw, not able to help it.  
  
Maglor gave them a look and he went on, "We need to keep moving. It's only just after eleven AM local time but it gets dark here early too, the sun is going to set around three-thirty or so. The sooner we can get into town and get a vehicle, the better off we'll be."  
  
Sören saluted, and Dooku tried not to laugh again. And then he went back to being ready to cry as he pulled his toboggan once more, feeling that fear of the unknown, the devastation of two members of their family being ripped away from them, wondering what other horrors would fall upon them.  
  
 _We have to keep moving,_ Dooku told himself. Not just to get into Fort Smith and try to get a vehicle, but they needed to get on the road and get to Thunder Bay... to his nieces... and then, to try to work on some sort of plan to ascension, or at least to better ward themselves against their collective enemies.  
  
It occurred to Dooku as he continued to pull the toboggan that it was easier to pick them off one at a time when they were living in different places around the world. Harder if they were together in a pack. He didn't have any easy solutions for how to get them all in the same place at the same time, or at least within the same city or within a short driving distance. But Edenel's caution that their enemies favored divide and conquer weighed on him now, and that had indeed been their ruin long ago - the three Finwion brothers torn asunder from one another, their children scattered as well.  
  
They had arrived not far from the Slave River Rapids National Historic Event, and now they were walking on an actual street, pulling their toboggans. It was quiet. They passed by a cab company, and Dooku thought about stopping and one of them taking a cab and going to a rental while the other two waited, but Sören shook his head - noticing him looking at the cabs, pondering - and made the "move on" gesture.  
  
They continued walking down the street and then up ahead they saw it - a KFC. Now Sören stopped, blinked in disbelief, and doubled over with a howl of laughter. He dropped on his knees and rolled around in the snow as if he were having a fit, face red, tears running down his cheeks, shaking and wheezing.  
  
Maglor watched with hands on his hips. Huan smiled, tongue lolling as if he were laughing too.  
  
"There is... a fucking... KFC... near... the fucking... Helcaraxë." Sören kept laughing. "I cannot even."  
  
Dooku pinched the bridge of his nose. "Yes, that is certainly... a bit surreal."  
  
"Oh god. Oh my _fucking god._ " Sören got up. "We have to go in there. We _have to_. Go in there."  
  
Dooku was hungry, but the mere concept of KFC vaguely offended him. Before he could protest, Huan began to bark, wagging his tail excitedly as if to agree with Sören.  
  
"Jæja, you want to get some chicken?" Sören stooped to pet Huan, who barked in response, seeming even more excited now. Sören looked at Maglor. "Your dog says we're going to KFC."  
  
Sören had been dragging a little behind, not as strong as the other two even with a smaller payload on his toboggan but now he pulled out ahead. Maglor shook his head at Dooku with an affectionate eyeroll and followed. As much as Dooku did not relish the prospect of eating at KFC - or even that a KFC existed this closely to the pristine wilderness, a rude reminder of so-called modern civilization - he wasn't going to argue with Sören about it.  
  
Charlie had wanted them to stay off the radar as much as possible, but they seemed extremely conspicuous walking down the street heading to the KFC pulling toboggans loaded up with survival gear... and Maglor's war harp in its case. Dooku hoped that this wasn't going to cause issue. But now he too was starting to see the hilarity in the situation, looking at Maglor's ancient war harp in its case riding on a toboggan, then at the KFC, then back at the harp, then at the KFC.  
  
"This is like the bastard love child of Tolkien and Douglas Adams," Dooku heard himself say out loud.  
  
Sören nodded. "Jæja... did you guys remember to bring some towels?"  
  
"We remembered towels," Maglor said.  
  
"You're a hoopy frood."  
  
The KFC was open. There were exactly two vehicles in the parking lot - a pickup truck with winter tires, and a minivan also outfitted with winter tires. The minivan was light blue and looked like it had seen better days, and Dooku noticed Maglor pausing to get a good look at the vehicles before he walked in.  
  
There was a cashier in a KFC uniform pacing around in front of the register, young, chubby, dark hair and eyes with light brown skin that suggested First Nations, and he beamed when they walked in. Then his face fell when he saw the dog.  
  
"Uh, sorry, you can't bring that in here," he said.  
  
"It's a service animal," Maglor said.  
  
The cashier looked like he was going to try to argue and Maglor pressed a bill into his hand and motioned with his index finger over his lips. The cashier gave a thumbs up.  
  
They went for a bucket of chicken with sides of mashed potatoes and biscuits with gravy - Dooku had to remind himself that in this context "biscuits" meant a type of bread and not cookies. As they waited, Dooku felt eyes staring at them and he finally looked over his shoulder at a middle-aged First Nations man wearing a parka and a cowboy hat, eating chicken by himself. They definitely stood out like a sore thumb with their toboggans and the dog, and now Dooku was questioning the sanity of this entire trip, wondering if there was going to be an incident.  
  
But when they finally sat down at a table, after Sören picked off a piece of chicken without the skin - eating the skin himself - and fed it to Huan, the man said, "Nice dog."  
  
"His name is Huan," Maglor said.  
  
"Oh, Juan, eh? You Spanish?"  
  
"Part Brazilian," Maglor said, and shot Sören and Dooku a look to keep them deadpan.  
  
"You guys, uh, you're tourists doing some kind of winter camping, yeah?"  
  
Maglor nodded. "It was his birthday," Maglor said, gesturing to Sören, "and he wanted to go on vacation."  
  
Dooku wondered if that might be a bit too much information for a stranger, but he also knew it would cause more of an issue to ignore him and he could feel Maglor starting to "fish". He had an idea for what was coming, based on the way he saw Maglor looking at the vehicles in the parking lot.  
  
"Canada's a big country," the man quipped. "Too much walkin', if you ask me."  
  
"Yeah, about that... our van broke down early this morning." Maglor gave the man a sad look. "Is that pickup truck out there yours?" Dooku noticed then Maglor said "oot", he was affecting a fake Canadian accent.  
  
"No, the minivan is mine," the man said. He looked at each of the three of them, and then at Huan; Sören fed Huan another small piece of chicken. Dooku could tell the man was sizing them up. "You guys want a ride to where your van broke down -"  
  
"It's completely dead," Maglor said. "We tried to jump it, I took a look under the hood..." Maglor shook his head. "Honestly, I should have never taken it out of Calgary -" Dooku noticed the "oot", again. "But this has been a hard year for all of us and my cousin's birthday just sprang up on us..." Sören tried not to react at the word "cousin"; Dooku kicked him under the table. "I was gonna buy a new van but there wasn't a lot of time. I thought the van would survive this last trip."  
  
"Well, if you guys want a ride to a rental..."  
  
Maglor looked over at the cash register; the cashier was heading back to the kitchen. He looked around the restaurant. It was just them, still. "I'll pay you for your minivan," Maglor said.  
  
The man raised an eyebrow as he sipped his soda. "It's not for sale."  
  
"Fifty thousand dollars."  
  
The man almost choked on his soda. "It ain't worth that much -"  
  
"No, but I need to get us back to Calgary in one piece."  
  
"You seriously got fifty thousand on you?"  
  
Maglor nodded solemnly.  
  
The man narrowed his eyes. "That's a lot of money, man. You some sort of criminals or something?" He chuckled.  
  
"Do we look like criminals to you?" Maglor picked up Huan, who immediately began licking his face. Maglor kissed the dog's snout. "Oh yes, that's a good boy. Did you get chicken? Didcha? Didcha?"  
  
"OK." The man nodded. "You show me fifty thou and that van is yours."  
  
"Do you mind if I check to make sure it runs first?" Maglor asked. "They can stay here, you can come along while I take it for a ride around the block? I don't mean to offend, but the van looks a little beat up and I want to make sure it won't break down on the way back to Calgary -"  
  
"No, that's fine. It runs good but I know it looks beat up." The man wiped his mouth and got up. "Guard my food while I'm gone," he told Sören and Dooku, laughing as he walked away from the table, and gestured for Maglor to follow him outside.  
  
Sören gnawed on chicken and watched them out the window, looking a bit wary.  
  
The cashier came back up and Dooku asked Sören, "Do you want a fountain drink?"  
  
"Can I have an orange soda?"  
  
 _Of course you would ask for that._ It came out before he could stop himself. "May I -"  
  
Sören gave him the finger.  
  
Dooku tousled Sören's curls on the way up, with the empty cup they hadn't filled in their rush to sit down and eat. He wasn't just going to wait on Sören, however - as he approached the fountain drinks the cashier looked at him. They were going to need some privacy for this kind of money to change hands; just because the man with the minivan seemed disarmed didn't mean the cashier wouldn't be suspicious and call the police. It was paranoid, but nonetheless a paranoia Dooku had to heed.  
  
He did something he normally hated doing, finding it ethically questionable at first. He pushed with the Force into the man's mind and said, "You should go back in the kitchen for the next ten minutes."  
  
"I should go back in the kitchen for the next ten minutes," the cashier said and with that, he went back in the kitchen.  
  
Dooku brought Sören the orange soda and then he went into the knapsack on his toboggan, which contained one of the two briefcases of Canadian currency. He opened it, counted stacks that amounted to fifty thousand - a quarter of what Charlie had given them - and lay them out on the table, covering them with paper napkins in case anyone else came in.  
  
Maglor and the minivan owner strolled back in. "We have ourselves a deal," Maglor said to Dooku and Sören.  
  
Dooku uncovered the stacks of bills. The man tossed his keyring to Maglor and began loading the stacks of bills into his empty chicken bucket.  
  
"We're gonna bring this gentleman to the car rental so he can get a vehicle to tide him over till he buys a new one," Maglor said.  
  
Dooku nodded.  
  
They finished eating first - the man introduced himself as Jim Hewitt, who was one of the only veterinarians in Fort Smith, who also provided mobile services to Fort Simpson, Fort Providence and Hay River. Dooku sensed no guile or deceit, and felt a pang, being reminded of Qui-Gon the veterinarian. He managed to keep himself together as they polished off their food - indeed, Dooku and Sören kept quiet, letting Maglor and Jim chat - but Sören seemed to know the reminder of Qui got him sad again as they sat in the back seat together, Huan on their laps, with Jim riding in the passenger seat.  
  
"So do they talk?" Jim chuckled.  
  
"My cousin is deaf..." Maglor turned around and looked over his shoulder at Sören and began to sign, and Sören "signed" back jibberish, ending with a middle finger; Sören hadn't spoken in front of Jim in the restaurant. "That's why we have the service animal with us."  
  
That was a damned lie, and Dooku was uncomfortable, not just with the lie itself but how _easy_ it was for Maglor to lie, and Dooku realized that this had been "the routine" that kept Maglor out of harm's way this long, traveling among humans, it had become second nature to him... like a performance, stepping into a role. And Dooku knew it had to be done - Sören's accent would raise questions. His own Received Pronunciation would probably raise even more questions.  
  
"And uncle Jacques, well... he talks a lot of _marde_ , don't you?"  
  
Dooku had been to Quebec a long time ago and had learned that the Québécois swore by stringing a lot of random religious words together. " _Osti de tabarnak de sacrament, de câlice de ciboire de criss de marde._ "  
  
"So what, you're Brazilian and French?" Jim asked. "That's an interesting background..."  
  
"We're an interesting family," Maglor said.  
  
Dooku clapped his hand over Sören's mouth before he could ruin the act by reacting.  
  
  
  
_  
  
  
Jim Hewitt lingered when they got to the car rental.  
  
"I kinda don't feel right takin' fifty thousand dollars for this van -"  
  
Maglor waved his hand. "You're doing us a kindness letting us take the van like this. If you don't want to keep all of it for yourself, invest some of it in your vet clinic."  
  
"OK, I'll do that then." Jim nodded. He clapped Maglor on the back. "It was nice meetin' ya, and have a safe trip back to Calgary."  
  
"Thank you."  
  
They waited until they were a distance from the rental place to get out of the van and get things of immediate need from the toboggans, including the portable Mp3 player and USB sticks holding different playlists. Dooku settled into the passenger seat and put the seat back to stretch his legs.  
  
"You have enough room back there, my dear?" Dooku asked Sören, who had his sketchbook and colored pencils out. Sören just nodded, and Huan yipped from under his blanket.  
  
They departed for the Fort Smith Highway, NT-5 South. They briefly dipped into Alberta then back into the Northwest Territories. The stereo played the classic rock playlist, and Dooku tried to relax, watching the snowy landscape out the window, the road winding through trees.  
  
They slowed at sunset when they saw three moose crossing the road. Sören _squeaked_ when he saw them, a reaction Dooku found utterly delightful, smiling. "OH MY GOD," Sören yelled, like a big kid. "HOLY SHIT, IT'S MOOSE." Then Sören frowned. "Er, mooses? Meese? Is that correct English?"  
  
"You had it right the first time with moose," Maglor said, laughing.  
  
"I saw reindeer in eastern Iceland once, I went winter camping with Ari for Christmas because he didn't want to be at home with his parents, which, you know, understandable. We were, like, twenty. We got very very drunk." Sören chuckled. "We don't have moose, but seeing the reindeer was fun. We were _so_ piss drunk and we tried..." Sören snorted. "We tried calling to them, right? We were like _MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_... and making sheep and goat noises." He bleated. "That's not even the sounds they make, but we were so fucking drunk, yelling _MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_ at the reindeer." Sören rolled down his window. "Well, this is for Ari." As they swerved around the moose, Sören called out, "MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO..."  
  
"Sören..." Dooku facepalmed, but he couldn't help laughing; Sören's antics were part of why he'd fallen in love with him a few years ago, after all.  
  
"MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO," Sören yelled. "MOOOOOOOOOOOO?"  
  
The picturesque scene of the three moose crossing the road from one snowy field to the other, flanked by birch and evergreens, the snow and frost burning in the pink-orange-gold streaking the deepening blue, was accompanied by Sören's calls of "MOOOOOOOOOOO, MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO." It amused Dooku and Maglor on its own, but then "YYZ" by Rush came on and that seemed to make things even worse.  
  
"Canada sends its regards," Maglor said.  
  
"I guess so," Sören said.  
  
 _My brother-husband, the once and future King of the Noldor, shouting "MOOOOOO" at moose._ Dooku shook his head.  
  
Sören rolled the window back up. It was getting too dark for Sören to draw without turning on a big light source in the backseat; Sören put his sketchbook aside and Dooku watched in the rear-view mirror as Sören used the Force to drape a blanket around his shoulders. Huan snuggled closer to Sören with a doggie yawn.  
  
Dooku could go for a nap himself - doing the mental math in his head it was almost eleven PM in Iceland. This had been a long day and they weren't finished yet.  
  
"I'll pull over to make camp once we're in Alberta," Maglor said, looking at the clock and then at Dooku as if he knew what Dooku was thinking. "We've got a little ways to go."  
  
"A little ways to go" turned out to be another couple of hours. They had to stop to stretch their legs and pee, which was annoying enough on its own and more annoying in the dark and with the temperature having dropped to well below freezing. After the rest stop Maglor turned on the overhead light in the van and Dooku tried to make himself stay awake. At last he saw the highway signs for AB-35 S, with the automated voice on the GPS on their satellite phone telling them to turn, and then, "Entering Alberta."  
  
"That's one province down," Maglor said.  
  
"WOOOOOOOOOOO," Sören shouted weakly from the backseat, such a tired, half-hearted cheer that Dooku had to chuckle.  
  
"I know you guys are tired," Maglor said. "We'll pull over in just a few minutes."  
  
"A few minutes" was twenty. The highway was quiet enough that Maglor just pulled the van over. He got the big flashlight out of the storage area behind the back seat so they could see what they were doing, and then things were unloaded from the toboggans. The tent was pitched, sleeping bags and blanket brought inside, plus water, non-perishable snacks for the humans, dog food for Huan. The "thunder bucket" sat outside the tent in case anyone had to go. Huan was taken for a small walk on the other side of the highway to do his business before he was brought into the tent.  
  
They were all worn out enough from the long day and the sickening rollercoaster of adrenaline that they bedded right down, getting into the bedding in their clothes; they'd wash up and change tomorrow before hitting the road. Sören set up the Silmaril tiara under a blanket to serve as a nightlight in case it was needed, and it also made the tent a bit toastier. Maglor set an alarm to wake them up in the morning.  
  
Sören snuggled between Maglor and Dooku. As exhausted as Dooku was, he rolled as close to Sören as possible and spent a few minutes nuzzling him, giving him little kisses, wanting to be reassuring after the horrible news of Dag being taken - the horrible nearly two months since the Dagorath. Sören rubbed his nose against Dooku's and then Sören spoke into his mind, across their bond.  
  
 _Thank you for being there through all of this._  
  
 _Of course,_ Dooku said back to him. _You're my husband._  
  
 _I don't just mean all of this, what happened today... what's been happening._ Dooku saw Sören bite his lower lip in the dark, his eyes impossibly sad. _I mean everything. When you came with me even after the Doom..._ Sören closed his eyes and gave a shuddery sigh. _I'm sorry everything went to shit for us, back then._  
  
 _My one regret - truly - is that you died thinking I hated you._ Dooku kissed the tip of Sören's nose. _The Valar may have thought they cursed us with this life, but we will curse_ them. _We have a second chance to get it right. We shan't fail this time._  
  
Dooku wanted to believe it, as he told Sören. He was afraid too. But if there was one thing he was absolutely certain of, it was his love for this magnificent, ridiculous man, the love that had made him travel the ends of the Earth, the love that made him face the Dark Lord to his end. There was power in that love, a force of nature as inexorable as the rapids that kept pounding on even when the rest of the Slave River froze. He was damned well going to _try_ , as hard as he could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAVE SOME PICTURES, EH?
> 
>   
> 


	28. Under the Milky Way

**Under the Milky Way**

  
  
  
Sören growled when the alarm went off, and again when Dooku unzipped his sleeping bag. Sören stretched - every bone in his body hurt from sleeping on the ground, and having yesterday lengthened by the jump between time zones. Even though it was seven AM local time and not an unreasonable hour to be up, it still felt too early, like he hadn't had enough sleep. It was still twilight outside.  
  
"Fuck this shit," Sören said.  
  
"Remember, we're getting your nieces," Maglor said, and thrust a can of Pepsi at Sören.  
  
"You normally disapprove of soda," Sören said, taking it with a smirk.  
  
"You need the caffeine."  
  
There was trail mix for breakfast, then they did some rudimentary washing up, including brushing their teeth, before they packed up and left the tent. Sören led Huan off to do his business as Dooku and Maglor took the tent down. The minivan had been undisturbed overnight, and they loaded up the van and got back in.  
  
This time Maglor put on the metal playlist, as a way to help continue to wake them up. He threw the horns as James Hetfield shouted  
  
 _Gimme fuel, gimme fire  
Gimme that which I desire_  
  
Sören watched the twilight and the endless snow and trees roll by, stroking Huan.  
  
 _Turn on... I see red  
Adrenaline crash and crack my head  
Nitro junkie, paint me dead  
And I see red  
  
One hundred plus through black and white  
War horse, warhead  
Fuck 'em man, white-knuckle tight  
Through black and white  
  
On I burn  
Fuel is pumping engines  
Burning hard, loose and clean  
And on I burn  
Churning my direction  
Quench my thirst with gasoline  
  
So gimme fuel  
Gimme fire  
Gimme that which I desire_  
  
Sören patted the Silmaril tiara in the pocket of his coat.  
  
After nine AM, the sun rose, in mellow pastels. Sören wasn't awake enough to try to draw, and the confines of the van didn't do much to wake his brain, even with loud metal playing, so he just watched the landscape of Alberta out the window, lost in his own thoughts. Where they had arrived in Canada under a brilliant blue sky yesterday, the sunset faded to an overcast sky. For a little while it snowed, and Sören worried about winter weather conditions shutting down roads, but they pressed on without a problem.  
  
While there were still trees, there were also stretches of flat land, the beginnings of the Canadian prairie. It reminded Sören a bit of driving in remote parts of Iceland, but that unsettled him rather than comforted him right now, having the strange nagging feeling for whatever reason that they weren't going to be returning to Iceland. He chalked it up to paranoia, the adrenaline surges and crashes yesterday, a day that seemed to go on forever and where his entire world had been rocked by his brother's disappearance. It was easy to catastrophize when that had hit them so suddenly, it was easy to feel like nothing would be safe, that everything would change abruptly. And yet...  
  
Sören gave a shuddery sigh, tears stinging his eyes. _Dag._ He wondered where he was - who had taken him, and why. He'd already felt guilty enough about the distance between them, not seeing him enough over the years. Now he was filled with all the regret of what could have been, what he could have done differently to keep in better touch, travel and get together more often.  
  
 _MI6 will find him and get him back,_ Sören tried to tell himself. _You're acting like he's dead._  
  
But Sören tried to reach out across their Force bond - they'd been able to exchange thoughts, touch, across an ocean. There had always been that presence on the other end and now there was just... emptiness. Like Dag was _gone_. Sören didn't want to think the worst, but there it was just the same.  
  
He tried to distract himself with happier thoughts, wondering how much of Canada that his brother had seen. He knew that Dag loved Canada enough to live here for over a decade, that Dag considered it his home even more than Iceland had been his home, if Dag was asked what he was he'd answer "Canadian" before he'd answer "Icelandic". He wished Dag was here with them now, taking this road trip, looking at all the snow.  
  
Huan gave a pitiful whine, as if he knew what Sören was thinking, and he put his hind legs on Sören's shoulders and began to lick Sören's face.  
  
They took their first rest stop at a Tim Horton's, which also made Sören think of Dag, who'd affectionately referred to "Tim's", a big fan of their coffee and donuts, enough to post selfies of himself at "Tim's" before Charlie had told them to stop posting pictures of themselves online, especially on social media. Sören had coffee and a cruller donut in honor of his brother; Dooku put an arm around Sören in the booth and stroked his curls, seeming to know how upset he was.  
  
After the stop at Tim Horton's - getting extra coffee, Sören could see why Dag loved the coffee - they got back on the highway. Now Sören attempted to sketch, starting a sketch of Dag, but it ended up making him too sad and he stopped, burying his face in his hands. That feeling of hopelessness returned, and Sören cried silently.  
  
 _I have to push through this, if only for the sake of my daughters._  
  
There it was again - not even "goddaughters", but "daughters". Sören wondered what was going on with that, beyond the sinking feeling he had that Dag wasn't going to be found anytime soon and he'd be taking care of the girls for awhile if not indefinitely. And then his heart started racing a little, wondering if on a deeper soul level the part of him that was Fëanor was acknowledging that the girls were _his_ \- sired by Finrod, in this lifetime, but nonetheless his, two of the seven sons returned in female bodies.  
  
 _Carrie and Maedelle._ One was dark-haired, one was redhaired. Matt had named Carrie after a friend of his, and Maedelle had been named for Dag and Matt's late housekeeper who had fussed over them like a mother, but nonetheless... _Caranthir and Maedhros?_ Sören wondered. It somehow didn't feel right - not that his sons couldn't be reborn as girls, but...  
  
Sören made a mental note to ask Gandalf when they came to Thunder Bay - Olórin would know for sure if they were Elves reborn, and if so, who.  
  
  
_  
  
  
As the day wore on, Sören began to see signs that they were heading for Edmonton. Finally, in the afternoon Maglor pulled onto AB-15. "We're in Mundare," Maglor said, consulting the GPS on the satellite phone. "We're stopping here for petrol and food, then we'll be making camp at Elk Island National Park, which is about thirty kilometers west of here."  
  
Near the Essos petrol station, as Sören got out to stretch his legs, he saw what looked like an interesting giant sculpture, shaped like an irregular oval made of tubes, hollow in the middle. He decided to walk over and take a look; Dooku followed him.  
  
The sculpture turned out to be the world's largest garlic sausage, according to the nearby plaque - a tribute to the Ukrainian community in Mundare - and Sören looked up and up at the two ends of it pressed together, like two cockheads, and lost it, screaming with laughter. Dooku raised an eyebrow at Sören's reaction and then when he saw what it was, he facepalmed.  
  
"Well, this was the most appropriate place for us to take a stop," Sören said. "Being we've got our own little sausage fest going..."  
  
"Dear god."  
  
Sören knew Charlie didn't want them posting pictures of themselves online, but he still needed to have _some_ souvenir of this trip for posterity and this seemed like the best time for it. "Here," Sören said, shoving his cell phone at Dooku. "I need some pics."  
  
Dooku gave him a look.  
  
"Come on," Sören said. "Tolkien's history has me painted as the biggest dick of all time... and here's the world's biggest sausage..."  
  
"You know..."  
  
"Come on, Ñolo, _plllllleeeeeease_..."  
  
With a deep breath and an eyeroll - Sören could tell from the way Dooku's eyes lit up and crinkled at the corners that he found this funny too, even if he didn't want to - Dooku stepped back a few feet and took a picture of Sören at the giant sausage. Then Sören took the Silmaril tiara out of his pocket, even though it was bright enough to potentially attract attention, and he put it on his head, striking a pose with two middle fingers raised. Dooku took another photo, and stepped further back to get all of the giant sausage in the picture.  
  
When he came back up to Sören, he showed Sören the latest photo. "You are incorrigible," he said.  
  
"I know," Sören said, and with that he put an arm around Dooku and kissed Dooku's cheek, and with his free hand he raised the camera and took two selfies of them in that affectionate moment at the giant sausage, Dooku's grumpy, long-suffering expression in the first photo and then the little smile in the second photo seeming to encapsulate their relationship perfectly.  
  
Sören took off the tiara of Silmarils and put it back in his pocket and they made their way back to Maglor, who had filled the tank of gas and gave them a look. "What kind of mischief did you two get into?"  
  
Sören showed him the pictures on the phone. "It's the world's largest sausage."  
  
Maglor leaned against the van, wheezing. "Dammit, Sören..."  
  
They ate at a Chinese restaurant - Sören felt guilty about leaving Huan in the van, making sure to bundle him up in blankets before they went inside. The food was pretty good, with large portions, and between the laughter at the giant sausage and the cozy atmosphere of the restaurant Sören relaxed a little, his mind temporarily away from their troubles. They had a pot of green tea with their meal, and Maglor encouraged Sören to have the tea. "It'll make you feel better," Maglor said, rubbing Sören's hand across the table.  
  
With a full belly, warm from the tea and a cuddly, cozy dog on his lap, Sören dozed off a little on the ride to Elk Island National Park and then they were there. The sun was starting to set as they unloaded their van and started lugging their toboggans, flashlights ready for the coming dark. "According to Google there are herds of bison and moose and elk in here," Maglor whispered. "Also, black bears and timber wolves, so we need to be careful."  
  
"Wouldn't the bears be hibernating?" Sören hissed.  
  
"Exactly why we need to be careful. We don't want to wake them up."  
  
 _Great, something else to be worried about._ "Yeah, bad enough we have a grumpy bear right here." Sören reached out to skritch Dooku's beard.  
  
The sun setting in the park took Sören's breath away - the sky blazing melon and violet, washing through to peach, lavender and gold, amid boreal forest and aspens and grassland. As awful as the circumstances had been that led them here, Sören nonetheless was grateful for the chance to see this part of the world, his horror at the tragedy that had shaken his family briefly relieved by the wonder in the presence of nature, as if the land itself were offering him some comfort, some assurance that life would go on, somehow, some way. Sören had chills and he couldn't resist stopping for a moment to take some pictures, wanting to preserve this memory.  
  
"We have to keep moving and get this tent pitched," Maglor said.  
  
Sören could tell that Maglor was using his Elven senses to scout as they pulled their toboggans, to make sure they wouldn't have a nasty surprise with camping near a den of wolves. At last Maglor nodded and stopped. "Here," he said.  
  
They pitched the tent, brought their bedding and other gear inside, and then set to work making a campfire outside the tent. Before Maglor could light a lighter, Sören held up a hand. "I need to practice," he said.  
  
Sören stared at the firewood and concentrated, pushing with the Force, and after a moment where he started to feel a headache coming on, the fire sprang to life. Sören fell back onto the snow, breathing hard, watching the campfire roar before them. It was his strongest fire yet, which meant he was getting better at this - a power he hadn't even realized he had until recently, even if it should have been more obvious with him being Fëanor reborn - and Sören felt a little glow of pride. When Sören sat up again, Maglor put an arm around him and patted his shoulder.  
  
Huan was fed and given water, and that was their cue to drink water as well. Some water was set near the campfire to warm for sponge bathing later. Then Maglor passed around a flask of whisky, which was not Sören's favorite thing in the world but the warmth was pleasant in the winter night.  
  
Maglor had also brought marshmallows, which made Sören grin, feeling like a big kid as they roasted marshmallows over the campfire. Dooku looked fairly disapproving. "You mean to tell me you've gotten through seven decades of life and you've never had a goddamn toasted marshmallow?" Sören asked.  
  
"As you know, I am not much of one for junk food -"  
  
Sören stuffed a toasted marshmallow in Dooku's mouth, silencing him. Sören giggled as he watched Dooku's whiskers get sticky, and Sören leaned in and groomed his beard with his tongue like a cat or a dog. Then Sören put a toasted marshmallow in his mouth and kissed Dooku with it. They both moaned into the kiss, and as Sören leaned on Dooku's shoulder under a blanket - now Dooku was toasting a marshmallow himself - Sören's libido started to stir. They'd all been too exhausted physically and emotionally to even think of sex yesterday, and now Sören found himself craving that comfort, the beauty of the wild landscape and the tender moment between them making his craving all the stronger.  
  
A few marshmallows and nips of whisky later, Maglor took out his war harp from the case. Sören's breath caught again at the sea of stars above them, which was the perfect ambiance for a star of the House of Fëanor... the Song himself, and what was this wild, magical place if not part of the Music made manifest.  
  
Maglor flexed his gloved hands and did scales, and then he performed a song from the late 1980s, something befitting the gothic "Alejandro" persona. His rich, crystalline tenor accompanied the shimmering harp:  
  
 _Sometimes when this place gets kind of empty  
Sound of their breath fades with the light  
I think about the loveless fascination  
Under the Milky Way tonight  
  
Lower the curtain down in Memphis  
Lower the curtain down all right  
I got no time for private consultation  
Under the Milky Way tonight  
  
Wish I knew what you were looking for  
Might have known what you would find  
  
And it's something quite peculiar  
Something that's shimmering and white  
It leads you here despite your destination  
Under the Milky Way tonight  
  
Under the Milky Way tonight_  
  
Sören got choked up, remembering the nightly ritual he and Dag had as small children to go out and say goodnight to the moon and the stars. Dag's fascination with space had begun when he was only four years old, wanting to be a scientist even then, maybe work at NASA someday - which he did indeed do for a short time; he had been a candidate for payload specialist at one point, but had never gone into space.  
  
Despite all of Sören's lifelong insecurities growing up under the shadow of his genius brother while Sören couldn't make it past his medical internship and spent years working as a barista, his art considered a "hobby" by most people rather than an all-consuming passion, Sören was nonetheless fiercely proud of his twin brother the astrophysicist. He admired and respected Dag's insatiable curiosity about the mysteries of the universe, his willingness to risk criticism from others in the scientific community - most notably Richard Dawkins - to explore controversial ideas like alien visitation and the existence of parallel universes. He admired the way Dag taught physics to his students, had given lectures and even TED Talks about his theories and insights.  
  
He thought of Dag now - the scientist, in love with the world in the same way he was but expressing it much differently - and he wondered if Dag at least got to see the night sky wherever he was being held, and the thought of Dag being prisoner somewhere tore at him. The tears spilled silently, but Dooku felt it and pulled Sören closer, and now Dooku was offering him a roasted marshmallow, another nip of whisky.  
  
Sören's eyes met Maglor's, and Maglor reached out to pat Sören, tousle his curls. Maglor felt it too, and he eased from "Under the Milky Way Tonight" to "Grace", a Jeff Buckley song from the 1990s - Sören's first impression when he'd heard Maglor sing, as "Alejandro", back in 2009 was that he sounded a bit like Jeff Buckley but even better. Maglor's fingers flew over the harp and his voice soared:  
  
 _There's the moon asking to stay  
Long enough for the clouds to fly me away  
Oh, it's my time coming,  
I'm not afraid  
Afraid to die  
  
My fading voice sings of love,  
But she cries to the clicking of time.  
Of time  
  
Wait in the fire.  
Wait in the fire.  
Wait in the fire.  
Wait in the fire.  
The fire.  
  
And she weeps on my arm  
Walking to the bright lights in sorrow  
Oh drink a bit of wine  
We both might go tomorrow  
Oh my love  
  
And the rain is falling,  
I believe my time has come  
It reminds me of the pain  
I might leave  
Leave behind  
  
Wait in the fire.  
Wait in the fire.  
Wait in the fire.  
Wait in the fire.  
The fire.  
  
It reminds me of the pain  
I might leave  
Leave behind  
  
And I feel them drown my name  
So easy to know and forget with this kiss  
I'm not afraid to go but it goes so slow  
  
Wait in the fire.  
Wait in the fire.  
Wait in the fire.  
Wait in the fire.  
Wait in the fire.  
Wait in the fire.  
Wait in the fire.  
Wait in the fire._  
  
Sören's tears weren't silent anymore. He had gooseflesh under his heavy winter clothing from Maglor's song. It was so tempting to just give up and die, but they had all been waiting in the fire, and it was the fire that seized him now, reaching out for Maglor to grab him, kiss him hard. They needed to feel alive...  
  
The campfire was snuffed out and the three went into the tent, taking the warmed-up water for bathing with them. Sören took out the Silmaril tiara, which heated up the tent nicely, making it safe to undress.  
  
The bath water was poured into two basins, one with soap added and one without. Maglor was washed first, the back of him then the front, with Sören sponging the soapy water onto Maglor and scrubbing in slow, sensual circles, Dooku sponging the plain water for rinsing, lazily rubbing back and forth. Sören and Dooku smiled at Maglor's hard cock jolting beneath their touch, and shared a kiss, wickedly plotting across their Force bond.  
  
Maglor had wicked thoughts as well - Dooku was next, stretching out onto his stomach, and Maglor scrubbed the back of him while Sören rinsed. Dooku sighed and moaned as they took care of him, as much of a massage as it was a bath, washing away the tension as well as freshening him up. As they worked on him together Sören and Maglor kissed, and Sören trailed kisses along Dooku's spine, laughing softly at the way he shivered, breathing harder, moaning louder. When Dooku rolled onto his front Sören licked his lips at the sight of the hard cock, already dripping precum. Maglor and Sören got even more slow and deliberate with their sponging, watching as Dooku broke out in gooseflesh, looking at them with pleading eyes. After Dooku's chest was washed, Sören licked the damp chest hair, stole licks at his nipples, pebbling them. When Dooku's cock was sponged clean, Sören licked at that too until Maglor pulled him off, chuckling.  
  
"Now now... we still have to wash you, Ada," Maglor said, heat in his eyes as he pushed Sören onto his stomach.  
  
Sören was already hard as he lay down, and wiggled his ass, whimpering with desperate need as Maglor and Dooku lavished love on him, Dooku soaping Sören and Maglor rinsing, the two of them kissing and licking each freshly clean inch of his shoulders and back. His cock stiffened even more and his balls tightened as tension melted out of the rest of him, his body electric with each caress, each kiss. When Sören stretched out on his back he couldn't help but stroke himself idly, which made Maglor playfully slap his hand away. "Not yet, Ada," Maglor husked. "We have to wash that, too."  
  
But they took their sweet time getting there, Dooku soaping and Maglor rinsing again, from his shoulders down to his chest and stomach and thighs, the two continuing to kiss and lick where the sponge had been. Sören bucked and arched to them, panting, as they lapped and suckled his nipples at the same time, played with the nipple rings, and his moans got even louder as they kissed and nibbled on his stomach and thighs, Sören's body sensitized from the sponge bath and the pent-up need, their teasing almost too delicious to bear. Most delicious of all was when they washed his cock, and nuzzled the bush, breathing in the scent of him before two tongues lashed at his cock from the head down the shaft and back up. Sören thrashed underneath them, moaning, gasping, begging "please... please..."  
  
The teasing intensified as Dooku took Sören's cock into his mouth and Maglor's tongue pushed into the fresh, clean puckered hole, finding that sweet spot in him right away and swirling his tongue slowly, sensually, kissing it. Sören screamed, right on that edge of climax, so badly needing to come, and they kept him there, Dooku's eyes fierce as he watched Sören lose himself in sensation and passion, Maglor murmuring into Sören with pleasure.  
  
Just before Sören could come, they stopped. Sören howled with frustration. Maglor laughed as Dooku pulled him into a kiss, the two of them teasing Sören even more by kissing each other, hands sliding over each other, hard cocks rubbing together as they sat face-to-face. They drove Sören mad when Dooku took his and Maglor's cocks into his hand and stroked them slowly, as Dooku kissed and licked and nibbled Maglor's neck, Maglor moaning and panting, every now and again stealing sultry glances at Sören, enjoying Sören's lust at the show playing out before him.  
  
"If you two don't fuck me, I'm going to fucking die," Sören growled.  
  
Dooku couldn't resist and he stopped kissing Maglor's neck long enough to say, "Hello, Going To Fucking Die, I'm -"  
  
Sören used the Force to hurl a pillow at him, with a roar. Dooku chuckled and threw it back at him just before he leaned and pushed Maglor back a little, to draw one of Maglor's nipples into his mouth.  
  
Sören couldn't stand it anymore. "You two get over here and fuck me right now."  
  
Dooku rolled his eyes. "Twist my arm," he said sarcastically.  
  
"I'll twist something, all right," Sören shot back.  
  
As much as Sören threw off a lot of body heat, and Van's gift of immortality had changed his physiology enough to give him greater immunity to the cold, and Sören was in the flush of arousal, and the Silmaril tiara was warming the tent, it was still below zero outside and they were naked; they needed some more warmth now. Sören unzipped his sleeping bag and watched with frustration as Maglor took a few minutes to unzip their sleeping bags and zip them together into one large sleeping bag that could fit the three of them - frustration intensified as Dooku began kissing Sören's neck the way he'd been kissing Maglor's, reached to play with Sören's cock. When the sleeping bags were ready Maglor got in, and then Sören and Dooku got in, Sören in the middle, and Dooku zipped them up and pulled the blankets over them.  
  
They settled into position, laying on their sides, with Dooku behind Sören, and Sören and Maglor laying face-to-face; Maglor hooked a leg around Sören. Dooku used the Force to pull the bottle of lubricant out from his knapsack, making Sören giggle as it floated over, and then his giggle became a gasp as the cold liquid poured into him. He gasped again - this time with pleasure - as Dooku's cock rubbed in the crack of his ass, both to get coated with the lube and to tease them both further.  
  
The bottle of lube quickly warmed in Sören's hand, and he poured some onto his fingers, reached under the covers for Maglor's opening. Maglor moaned as Sören pushed one finger inside, then two, then three, rubbing that spot inside him, readying him to be stretched and filled. Sören poured lube over his own cock and Dooku reached around to stroke Sören's cock, get it ready for their lover.  
  
Sören gave a shuddery sigh as he sank into Maglor's silken heat, the feel of Maglor's channel kissing his cock almost enough to send him over the edge right away. He and Maglor kissed deeply, hands roaming, searching, exploring, playing over each other's bodies under the covers as Sören took his first few thrusts, slow and sweet, trying to hold his orgasm back a little longer. It got more difficult to do as Dooku pushed into him from behind, Dooku's arms tight around him as he kissed and nibbled the back of Sören's neck and shoulder, exquisitely sensitive.  
  
Sören and Dooku found a rhythm together, Sören pushing into Maglor as Dooku pulled out of Sören, Dooku pushing into Sören as he pulled out of Maglor. The three lost themselves in the slow, languid lovemaking, the dreamlike haze of sensuality, that feeling of love and belonging.  
  
They moved harder, faster, Maglor and Sören's kisses more feverish, Sören's hand stroking Maglor's cock in time with their thrusts, Dooku leaning over Sören's shoulder to kiss Maglor, Dooku tilting Sören's face to claim his mouth. Their cries rose and fell; their flesh slapped together, sleeping bag rustling. Sören felt himself sweating, almost too hot for comfort...  
  
...and yet, this was comfort, sharing passion underneath the warm covers in their tent. Whatever they had lost out there in the world, they had each other, clinging together - fused together, winding that bond between them ever tighter, stronger.  
  
"Ada," Maglor called out as he climaxed, hot seed shooting over Sören's stomach.  
  
Sören let go with a sob as he gave in to Maglor's pulsing, throbbing channel, spending into him, relief flooding through him, the ache of loving and being loved during a time like this. He cried with deeper relief, deeper love as Dooku came in him, teeth savage on the back of his neck, sweet possession.  
  
 _No matter what, we have this,_ Dooku spoke into Sören's mind, tilting his head again to take a kiss.  
  
Sören smiled against his mouth. _I love you, Ñolo._  
  
Sören dozed off not long after that; he was vaguely aware of Maglor putting a blanket over the Silmaril tiara to darken the tent, and Maglor added another couple layers of blankets over them. Then Maglor's lips pressed Sören's forehead. "Rest, Ada."  
  
  
_  
  
  
  
In the middle of the night Sören had another nightmare about Dag, this one about him being dragged off, desperately screaming for Sören and reaching out to him as he was pulled along the ground, and Sören tried to run after him and was yanked back in place by that invisible chain again...  
  
...the invisible chain that restrained the Fenrir-wolf, in mythology.  
  
As much as Sören didn't want to disturb his partners, he had to pee when he woke up from that nightmare, and the cold sweat from his nightmare meant it was a good idea to get dressed now. He used the Force to pull over the fresh change of clothes he'd set out for the morning and after he was dressed, he stepped out of the tent.  
  
The aurora borealis greeted him - Sören gasped as he watched the intense green and violet weaving and swirling in the sky, with dashes of gold. Then he gasped again as he saw a couple of bison grazing nearby - a large one and two smaller ones, probably the larger one's babies. He tried not to squeak, not wanting to frighten them off. He'd never seen bison before outside of documentaries on TV and photos in magazines, and he was entranced, watching them peacefully grazing under the aurora. It was one of the most magical moments of his life, outside of finding the Silmarils - it felt almost like a sign.  
  
Sören's bladder nagged him again and he did his business and wiped, eyes riveted on the bison and the shimmering aurora. Finally the cold and his fatigue got the better of him and he reluctantly went back in the tent and got under the covers.  
  
  
_  
  
  
The alarm went off at seven AM again. Sören wanted to throw it across the tent, even though he was arguably better-rested than he had been last night; after his nightmare, he'd slept pretty soundly following his bathroom break and seeing the bison under the aurora, which felt almost like it had happened in a dream and he would have thought he'd dreamt it except he woke fully dressed.  
  
After getting ready, they began to clear the tent, and once again, Sören saw bison - this time there were four adults and two young, quietly grazing in the twilight several meters away. Sören squeaked and clapped his hands like an excited big kid, then he facepalmed, not wanting to disturb them with his noise. One of the large bisons looked over at him, snorted, and then went back to what it was doing like it didn't care. Maglor smirked.  
  
Hauling the toboggans all the way back to the van was a pain, and Sören was already tired out again by the time they got there, but it had been worth it to see the bison. Sören found himself smiling as they loaded up the back of the van.  
  
Maglor was in a mellow mood, so the ambient playlist went on, with Cocteau Twins and Enya and Enigma playing as the deep blue twilight faded to pink and gold dawn. With the music and Sören's lingering fatigue he was half-asleep in the back seat, every now and again stirring as he felt Huan shift position next to him, and he'd look out the window again at the Canadian landscape whizzing past. They entered Saskatchewan and Sören woke up enough to give another half-dead "WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO" at another province cleared.  
  
What Sören noticed now was that the land was suddenly a lot more flat - there had been fewer trees in Alberta as they drove through, compared to the Northwest Territories, and now it was all flat, the Canadian prairie. The sky was a dull grey color and there was a bit of fog, which gave the drive a melancholy feeling, and was also a bit eerie, as if something ominous was brewing. But then Sören's pensive mood lightened when he saw the road signs, announcing Trans-Canada Highway / Saskatoon / Prince Albert.  
  
"Hold the fuck up, there's a town called PRINCE ALBERT?" Sören hollered, thinking of his piercing.  
  
Dooku facepalmed and Maglor snickered. Then Maglor shot him a look in the rearview mirror. "That's in the opposite direction of where we're going, Ada."  
  
"We can't take the van for a ride in Prince Albert?" Then Sören's mind ha to go there. "Insert jokes about Van, ride, Prince Albert here..."  
  
Maglor _glared_ in the rearview mirror. "Could you not?"  
  
"What's the matter? I'd let you watch. Or, you know, join in, since it is your boyfriend and all..."  
  
" _HE IS NOT MY BOYFRIEND._ "  
  
Sören chuckled and made the "OK hand" in the rearview mirror where Maglor could see it. "Sure, Maglor... I think Ñolo and Ara said the same thing about me back in the day..."  
  
" _HELLS._ "  
  
"No, the sign isn't for Hells, it's for Prince Albert."  
  
"ADA, PLEASE."  
  
"Here, I can make this way, way worse." Sören used the Force to pull out the USB stick with pop and dance music on it. "Let's have something upbeat now."  
  
Dooku reluctantly put the stick in the portable mp3 player - Sören knew that he hated this kind of music for the most part but he'd tolerate it for a little while for Sören's sake. Dooku hit shuffle and as if someone were using the Force to be a troll, Justin Bieber began to whisper:  
  
 _If I was your boyfriend, I'd never let you go  
I can take you places you ain't never been before  
Baby take a chance or you'll never ever know  
I got money in my hands that I'd really like to blow  
Swag swag swag, on you  
Chillin' by the fire while we eating fondue  
I don't know 'bout me but I know about you  
So say hello to falsetto in three two_  
  
Then Justin Bieber sang:  
  
 _I'd like to be everything you want  
Hey girl, let me talk to you  
  
If I was your boyfriend, I'd never let you go  
Keep you on my arm girl, you'd never be alone  
I can be a gentleman, anything you want  
If I was your boyfriend, I'd never let you go, I'd never let you go_  
  
"HELLS," Maglor yelled, and took a hand off the wheel for a moment to hit the skip button. "Mr. Vain" by Culture Beat started:  
  
 _Call him Mr. Raider call him Mr. Wrong  
Call him Mr. Vain...  
Call him Mr. Raider call him Mr. Wrong  
Call him insane...  
  
He'd say: I know what I want  
And I want it now  
I want you 'cause I'm Mr. Vain  
I know what I want and I want it now  
I want you 'cause I'm Mr. Vain_  
  
"Hey, it's Van's theme song and everything," Sören said.  
  
Maglor made a garbled noise that Sören was pretty sure not only wasn't Portuguese or Elvish, but wasn't even a language. He hit the skip button again and there was a familiar drum roll and clapping and a strummed balalaika to a disco beat.  
  
 _Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey  
Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey  
Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey  
  
There lived a certain man in Russia long ago  
He was big and strong, in his eyes a flaming glow  
Most people looked at him with terror and with fear  
But to Moscow chicks he was such a lovely dear  
He could preach the Bible like a preacher  
Full of ecstasy and fire  
But he also was the kind of teacher  
Women would desire  
  
Ra ra Rasputin  
Lover of the Russian queen  
There was a cat that really was gone  
Ra ra Rasputin  
Russia's greatest love machine  
It was a shame how he carried on_  
  
Maglor pulled over, took a few deep breaths - Dooku was trying not to laugh and failing, and Sören wasn't even trying to disguise his amusement.  
  
"I hate everything," Maglor said.  
  
"What's the matter? You can't deal with... from Russia, with love?" Sören batted his eyelashes.  
  
"HE. IS. NOT. MY. BOYFRIEND." Maglor folded his arms.  
  
 _But when his drinking and lusting  
And his hunger for power  
Became known to more and more people  
The demands to do something  
About this outrageous man  
Became louder and louder_  
  
"Outrageous isn't even the word," Dooku chuckled.  
  
"BESIDES," Maglor shouted over Dooku, now giving him a look as well, "we don't even know where he is. Or what he's doing." Maglor breathed a small sigh then, and Sören could feel the disappointment and concern that Van hadn't come back with Edenel and Coldagnir.  
  
"I miss him too," Sören said softly. _Another person ripped away from me, don't know if I'll ever see him again._ Sören didn't want to cry, but he could feel the tears coming.  
  
"We have to keep moving," Maglor said, and Sören knew he was talking as much about Van as he was about the road.  
  
But Sören would never really move on. It had been over a year and he still loved Van. It was very hard for him, if not outright impossible, for him to stop loving someone once his heart allowed that love - as he'd learned the hard way with Maglor, with Dooku themselves.  
  
 _And Ara, wherever he is._ Sören closed his eyes, wondering if they would ever be reunited in this worldline. Everything felt hopeless again.  
  
  
_  
  
  
They took their first rest stop in Saskatoon just before noon, at another Tim Horton's. After their stop they drove through Saskatoon, with businesses on either side of the SK-16 highway. They took the exit towards Yorkton, and merged back onto the Trans-Canada Highway. They made their stop for the night hours later in Yorkton, having dinner at a nice steakhouse before driving around to find a campground; Maglor saved a little bit of steak as a treat for Huan, sitting bundled up in the van while they were away.  
  
They were a lot more in civilization tonight than they had been last night, the sky wasn't as clear, no wild animals as far as they could tell, but there was still nonetheless a peaceful feeling as they made camp and sat out under the night sky, roasting marshmallows and drinking whisky around the campfire again. Maglor played instrumental songs on the harp - some familiar songs they recognized, classical music and more contemporary pieces, like Enya.  
  
Sören started to doze off, lulled by the sound of the harp, and he was aware of Dooku picking him up and carrying him into the tent. Snuggled between Maglor and Dooku, Sören fell asleep, and this time there were no nightmares. He dreamed of his mother, and of him and his siblings and cousin playing in the snow.  
  
He was woken up in the middle of the night by a cold emptiness under the covers, which startled him. Maglor wasn't there, and for the briefest instant Sören panicked, worrying that he too had been taken from him somehow. And then he heard the strains of Maglor's harp, and Maglor singing in Quenya - he recognized the _Noldolantë_ , beautiful and haunting, mournful.  
  
Sören stepped out of the tent and saw the aurora in the sky again, burning green fire, this time with flashes of pink. He sat beside Maglor to listen to the _Noldolantë_ \- the Song of the Song - and watch the aurora. Even though they weren't quite in a private place, Maglor had dropped his glamour for the time being, hair flooding to his thighs, glowing silver. Even though Sören was loath to deprive the tent of its nightlight and an additional source of warmth he used the Force to grab the Silmaril tiara, and put it on his head. It felt like the right thing to do.  
  
Maglor looked at him, and Sören could hear there was a new part of the song now, that had been added after the more recent addition of the memorium of those who had perished in the Dagorath. Sören didn't understand a word he was singing and yet he _knew_ it. Maglor was singing to him as the reborn King of the Noldor, who would rise and reclaim what was theirs, who burned like the fire in the sky they were watching now, shining through the darkness. Sören's eyes filled with tears, and he felt the Silmarils pulsing in their tiara atop his head, responding to the song, to Maglor's voice. Sören could feel it then - this was a form of magic for Maglor, this was his show of Power, that this wasn't just a new verse of the _Noldolantë_ but he was singing a spell, a charm to protect and strengthen Sören in the days ahead.  
  
 _Force knows I'll need it._ Sören swallowed hard.  
  
Huan whined and pawed at the door of the tent, and Sören brought him outside. He and Maglor had water while they watched Huan go, and then at last Maglor packed up his harp and followed Huan and Sören back into the tent. Huan wanted to snuggle with them, which was fine by Sören, and for a few minutes, laying there between Maglor and Dooku with Huan laying across Sören and Maglor under a little blanket of his own, the Silmaril tiara glowing on them from across the tent, Sören could almost believe that somehow, things would work out.  
  
Almost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SOME MORE PICTURES, EH:
> 
>   
>   
> Yes, the sausage is a real thing.


	29. Fated

**Fated**

  
  
  
It was snowing when they woke up the next morning and packed up the tent and their gear. Maglor drove slowly, carefully on the highway, and so it took them closer to five hours to get from Yorkton to Winnipeg, rather than the little-over-four hours projected by Google Maps. As they cleared Saskatchewan and entered Manitoba, Sören gave another half-hearted "woooooooo"; he was getting antsy, wanting to just get to Thunder Bay already and get his nieces.  
  
Watching the snow fall on the Canadian prairie as they drove also once again made Sören feel melancholy, a sense of mourning. He also felt uneasy, knowing how winter weather conditions could close roads. He felt just about ready to cry when they took a rest stop in Winnipeg, hitting Tim Horton's for coffee.  
  
To help cheer Sören up, Dooku got him a hot chocolate in addition to the usual coffee, knowing how much Sören liked hot cocoa. Sören leaned on him in the booth, and Dooku pet Sören's curls, the Force radiating in his touch. Maglor watched their moment of tenderness with a little smile on his face and then he reached across the table, took Sören's hands and kissed them.  
  
"Soon," Maglor said. "This time tomorrow you'll have your goddaughters."  
  
"I worry something else will go wrong." Sören looked out the window at the snow falling. "Like we'll get stuck somewhere -"  
  
Maglor shook his head. "I promise you, we are going to get those girls."  
  
It was another seven and a half hours from Winnipeg to Thunder Bay, and they could only make part of that today. But Maglor still drove a little faster once they left Tim Horton's, putting on the metal playlist to get himself in the zone with driving and try to get Sören's spirits up some more. When Metallica came on, Maglor turned it up and he, Dooku and Sören threw the horns.  
  
 _Hey (hey)  
I'm your life  
I'm the one who takes you there  
Hey (hey)  
I'm your life  
I'm the one who cares  
They (they)  
They betray  
I'm your only true friend now  
They (they)  
They'll betray  
I'm forever there  
  
I'm your dream, make you real  
I'm your eyes when you must steal  
I'm your pain when you can't feel  
Sad but true_  
  
Just as Maglor turned from the Provincial Trunk Highway onto the Trans-Canada Highway, Maglor said, "Oh, _shiiiiiiiiiiiiit_."  
  
That didn't sound good at all. Then Sören heard sirens; he looked in the rear-view mirror and saw a Royal Canadian Mounted Police car was right behind them. Maglor pulled over.  
  
"OK," Maglor said. "Everyone, keep calm. Nicolae, you're French again, and Sören, pretend to be asleep. I'll handle this."  
  
Sören used the Force to pull up blankets over himself, and he closed his eyes, but he definitely wasn't asleep - he listened, heart racing, worrying that they were about to be taken away somewhere in connection with whatever happened with Dag.  
  
"Good afternoon, sir," Maglor said, turning down the music.  
  
"Good afternoon. You know how fast you were going?"  
  
"Oh, crap. I'm really sorry," Maglor said, and Sören noticed he said "sore-ree". "I was goin' a bit over the speed limit, eh?"  
  
"Not by much, but we have a slower speed limit in these conditions, son."  
  
"Oh no. I'm sorry." There it was again, the "sore-ree". "I'm usually a lot more careful, but my uncle and I here were arguin' about hockey again..." Sören noticed he pronounced it "a-boat".  
  
" _Criss de câlice de tabarnak de marde_ ," Dooku swore.  
  
"Uncle Jacques, calm down, eh?"  
  
The Mountie chuckled from outside the van.  
  
"Am I in trouble, sir? Do you need me to step out of the van?" He said "oat". "Show my license and registration, that sort of thing? I'm kinda in a rush to get home..." Maglor gave a nervous little laugh. "My uncle's in a mood, and I gotta go to the bathroom, and my cousin back there don't feel so good."  
  
Sören made a little whiny moan, and opened his eyes just a little to squint - he'd never seen a Mountie before, just on TV. He was disappointed that the Mountie wasn't wearing a red uniform or the hat, but was wearing blue like any other police officer around the world. He closed his eyes.  
  
Then Maglor laughed again. "I got coffee from Tim's if you want to look the other way..."  
  
The Mountie laughed too. "No bribes, son. Look, I won't make you go to all that trouble, I won't write you up for a ticket this time, just drive slower when you get on the road again, eh?"  
  
"Will do, sir. Again, I'm sorry, and thank you so much."  
  
"Thank you for your compliance, son."  
  
"You have a nice day, eh?"  
  
"You too."  
  
Sören heard Maglor roll the window back up, and when Maglor said, "He's gone," Sören opened his eyes. Then he gasped when he saw Maglor's right hand holding a Glock pistol under a pile of Tim Horton's napkins; Maglor took a few deep breaths, shaking.  
  
" _Maglor._ " Sören blinked, not able to believe it, and yet, believe it he had to, looking at the Glock again. "Were you gonna shoot -"  
  
"Look, Sören, I wouldn't have shot the guy for no reason, but after what happened with Dag, if it looked like we were going to get arrested I would have shot him." Before Sören could protest, Maglor went on, "I know you don't like it, but the training wheels are off now. We had some peace and quiet for awhile, but that was a false sense of security - this is our life. We do what we have to do to survive - or keep ourselves from a fate worse than death - even when it's ugly and questionable." Maglor put the pistol back in the glove compartment and pulled back onto the road. "And it's not just the three of us we have to think about now, either. It's those girls. We have to look after them, protect them."  
  
Sören shivered. He understood what Maglor was saying - he still didn't like it, the Mountie was just doing his job and seemed pleasant enough - but he understood it just the same.  
  
And he realized that as much as the idea of shooting someone in cold blood bothered him, he was also bothered by Maglor being so _casual_ about it. He knew that Maglor was capable of killing, and had killed, many times over, but it was one thing to know it was a part of his past and another thing to see it demonstrated in the present. How quickly Maglor could switch gears from being perfectly pleasant and warm and loving, to the cold, ruthless kill-or-be-killed predator. This was a part of Maglor he had to accept, and it bothered him a little that he _was_ accepting it, that he understood the terrible necessity of their situation and what they might have to do in the days, weeks, months ahead to keep from going the same way as his brother.  
  
What bothered him most of all was that Maglor had gotten that killer instinct from _him_. Compared to Fingolfin and Finarfin, Fëanor had been less of an obvious warrior, and yet Fëanor had been a warrior in his own right. Fëanor had killed. And as Sören was Fëanor reborn, there was a part of him that was a killer. Sören himself had killed, once - his uncle Einar, fourteen years ago; he'd Force choked Einar to death before Einar could rape and kill Margrét.  
  
Sören tried to push it out of his mind. He reached for his sketchbook, but he couldn't concentrate. He curled up with Huan, watching the snow fall harder. When the GPS announced that they were now in Ontario, Sören gave another "woooooooooooo".  
  
"OK, we should touch base with Olórin now," Maglor said, "make sure he's still in Thunder Bay. I shouldn't be on the phone and drive at the same time -"  
  
"I'll do it." Sören used the Force to reach for the satellite phone; they had programmed Olórin's burner as number 3 on their speed dial. Sören waited three rings, and then Olórin's voice came over the line. "Hello?"  
  
"Hi," Sören said. "We just crossed the Ontario border."  
  
"Good. How has your journey been so far?"  
  
"Cold," Sören said, thinking again of Maglor ready to shoot the Mountie. "It's snowing pretty hard right now. You still in Thunder Bay?"  
  
"That I am."  
  
"We won't make it there tonight but we'll be there tomorrow..."  
  
"Early afternoon," Maglor called from the front seat.  
  
"Early afternoon. We need an address of where we're going," Sören said.  
  
"Yes," Olórin said. "We have a bit of a conundrum here, as I have reservations giving that information over a cell phone... who knows who might be listening in..."  
  
" _Palantir_?" Sören asked. "Did we even bring the _palantir_..."  
  
"Not that either, I don't want to risk a surprise visit from you-know-who, on the odd chance he'd be interested in these girls. Nothing like a wizard battle to be even more conspicuous..."  
  
Sören couldn't blame him for that - he found himself perversely amused that Sauron had been referred to as You-Know-Who, the same epithet given Voldemort in the _Harry Potter_ series - but he was also feeling a small prickle of irritation. "OK, well, how are we going to find you?"  
  
There was a pause, then Olórin said, "Is Macalaurë driving?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Tell him to take a stop in Kenora, you ought to see the Max the Moose statue. Tell him I said it's worth seeing."  
  
Sören relayed the message.  
  
It took a little under two hours for them to get to Kenora. The snow was really coming down, and Maglor seemed a bit disgruntled at being sent on "a wild moose chase," he muttered, looking up Max the Moose on GPS.  
  
When they got there the sun was setting, and Sören wanted another photo opportunity, both of the giant moose statue and the art bench nearby. Just as Sören was taking a selfie, a shadow fell over him and he looked up. There was an eagle soaring overhead.  
  
The eagle swooped down on top of the moose statue's head - it had something in its beak, and dropped it on the ground. Dooku stooped to pick it up, a rolled-up piece of paper. The paper contained the directions to where Olórin was staying in Thunder Bay.  
  
Sören's jaw dropped - this was a bit surreal. Chills went through him.  
  
Before he could take a picture of the eagle sitting on the statue - not a sight seen every day - the eagle flew off.  
  
They stopped for dinner at a bar and grill, and then on the way back to the van Maglor said, "I think instead of camping it's going to be safer to do a hotel. Not necessarily because of the cold, but I don't want to run the risk of good Samaritans trying to rescue us in the snow, or another run-in with Mounties..."  
  
Sören couldn't fault his logic, though they had to try more than one hotel before they found somewhere that would allow them to bring the dog, and once they did they were given a strange and somewhat disapproving look at three men sharing a hotel room together, even though they weren't advertising being a poly triad. Sören felt uncomfortable, and not a small amount paranoid, having the sudden mad fear that whatever happened to Dag now meant that they were wanted.  
  
The anticipation of picking up his goddaughters, the reflection on how his life would change as he was suddenly thrown into a parent role, the worry that he wouldn't be a fit guardian - he had no idea how to take care of babies - as well as the adrenaline of the earlier encounter with the Mountie and Sören's paranoia that just before they could get to the girls, the Feds would come crashing their hotel door down, kept Sören awake that night. He tried to get to sleep, but he kept tossing and turning, and got up several times to pace with all the nervous energy coursing through him.  
  
By five AM Maglor and Dooku were up too, two hours ahead of the alarm. It was still dark outside. They took turns in the shower - a hot shower felt good, after going close to a week without. But the shower also exhausted Sören... not enough to fall asleep when they got in the van, however.  
  
They stopped for coffee at Tim Horton's and then they were on their way. After the stretch of the Canadian prairie it was nice to see trees again as they drove through Ontario, and Sören tried to relax between the peace of the winter forest and Maglor once again putting on the ambient playlist, sensing how keyed up Sören was. But Sören still felt like he could jump out of his skin, wired and tired. The six-hour drive felt impossibly long, and Sören started to cry on the last hour, exhausted and nervous and frustrated that they weren't there yet, and even once they had the girls it was a long, long journey home...  
  
The GPS announced Thunder Bay, and then began to recite the directions for the address that had been plugged in for where Olórin was staying. They came to a benign, normal-looking small white house with a station wagon in the driveway; Sören heard a dog barking as they pulled in, which woke up Huan from his nap and got him barking too.  
  
Maglor led the way up the steps to the porch and the front door. He knocked and Sören's heart hammered in his ears. The dog inside came closer to the door, barking louder. A few seconds later the door opened and they saw Olórin, dressed in an off-white sweater and grey sweatpants. He gestured for them to come in.  
  
Sören went right over to the twin bassinets, a sob tearing through him at the sight of his goddaughters.  
  
"Coffee? Tea?" Olórin asked.  
  
"Earl Grey if you've got it," Dooku said.  
  
They sat down when the tea was ready, Olórin on an armchair, the other three across from him on a couch; Sören pulled the bassinets over to where he sat on the comfy grey couch. The girls were waking up now, making a fuss. "They're probably hungry," Olórin said - he'd also heated up two bottles of formula along with the tea. "Do you want to do the honors?"  
  
Sören handed the dark-haired baby to Dooku, and took the redhead into his arms. Sören and Dooku fed the babies while the tea cooled; tears streamed down Sören's face, holding the baby girl in his arms, marveling over her little face, the tiny nose, the tiny fingers and toes. He pet the fuzzy red hair and kissed the top of the baby's head. Looking over at Dooku holding and feeding Carrie made Sören cry even harder at the sweetness of it, the way Dooku completely melted at the baby in his arms. "Hello," Dooku said softly, chucking Carrie's chin as he fed her. "Why, hello there."  
  
Even though the girls weren't his biologically, Sören now understood why new parents talked about the difference in brain chemistry as they bonded with their children, the overwhelming love and the fierce protectiveness. Sören felt overcome by emotion; holding the baby in his arms, and the other safe in Dooku's arms, had made the entire long journey - like a long, difficult labor - worth it.  
  
"I should warn you now," Olórin said, "they've been a bit agitated since the separation. Small though they are, children _know_ when something isn't right -"  
  
Now the tears that spilled were for Dag. Sören swallowed hard.  
  
Maglor leaned back on the couch and folded his arms. "I have to ask," Maglor said, "has there been a stink?"  
  
"A missing persons report has been filed," Olórin said, nodding, "not by me. I can only assume by someone at the university, or perhaps one of Dag's neighbors. There's been mention of it on Toronto news sources but it hasn't completely blown up yet. Yet."  
  
"High-profile scientist going missing, it's only a matter of time before that goes national," Maglor said. "Or international."  
  
"Which also attracts attention to his family." Olórin sipped his tea.  
  
Dooku handed Carrie to Maglor so he could work on his tea. Sören started crying all over again at Maglor going from stern and concerned to suddenly gooey at the baby in his arms, talking to her as sweetly as he did Huan. Huan was making friends with Olórin's dog, while Olórin's cats sat on a cat tree looking out the window.  
  
"Charlie told us to stay off the radar during our trip," Sören said. "Though we had to get a hotel last night. We paid cash..."  
  
"If it keeps snowing like it did last night, we're going to have to use hotels on the way back for the sake of the girls," Dooku said. "They'd be affected by the cold much worse than we would be."  
  
Rocking Carrie, Maglor asked, "By any chance, have you done scrying with the _palantir_ to see who or what took -"  
  
"I've tried." Olórin let out a deep sigh. "I'm not getting anything, which is alarming. It means there's interference. From who, I don't know. But whatever it is, doesn't want Dag to be found anytime soon, if at all."  
  
" _Jesus._ " Sören broke down sobbing, which made Maedelle cry, which in turn made Carrie cry. Sören immediately felt guilty. "Aw shit, I upset the kids -"  
  
"Shhh, shhhh," Maglor said, petting Carrie. He started to sing: " _Hush little baby, don't say a word, Ada's gonna buy you a mockingbird... if that mockingbird don't sing, Ada's gonna buy you a diamond ring..._ "  
  
Dooku snorted, not able to help it. " _Indeed_ ," he said, sipping his tea.  
  
Sören needed to try to change the subject, knowing the girls could sense how agitated he was - which all but confirmed they were Force sensitive like most of the rest of the family. Maglor continued to sing, which only brought down the squalling a little bit, and then Sören found his words. "So this is, ah. This is your house?"  
  
"I own a few different houses around the world," Olórin said. "One of them is this one, here in Thunder Bay. I have an... arrangement with the Sleeping Giant. I still thought it prudent to not risk a confrontation with Sauron or the authorities, which is why I preferred to send the directions to you by eagle rather than over your satellite phone or _palantir_."  
  
"Let's be real, you wanted to show off a little." Maglor raised an eyebrow, his lips quirked.  
  
"I admit, Macalaurë, that the opportunities for me to flex my powers are fewer and farther between, but no, I really did feel it was better under current circumstances to err on the side of caution." Olórin's brow furrowed. "Trouble is brewing. I cannot say what, or where -"  
  
"Great," Sören muttered, the paranoia rising again.  
  
"But something else is happening." Olórin shrugged. "However, I feel it is absolutely the right thing that you have these girls."  
  
Sören felt that too - they were calming down now; Maedelle's fist locked around his index finger and Sören's tears once again fell out of love, awe over this tiny little life in his arms.  
  
"Will you be staying the night?" Olórin asked. "I have a guest room..."  
  
Maglor shook his head. "As much as I'd love to stay and get caught up, maybe seek some counsel, we have a very long journey back to the Portal in Fort Smith and the sooner we head back the way we came, the sooner we can get home. The sooner we can get these girls home, and try to... pick up the pieces."  
  
"I understand. Can you stay for at least a little while? Let me feed you?"  
  
Maglor looked at the others. "I think we can do that."  
  
Olórin ordered a pizza - the surreality of Gandalf the White ordering a pizza sent Sören into hysterics. As they waited for the pizza to arrive, Olórin showed them where the bathroom was, and when they passed by the washer and dryer in the pantry, Sören asked, "Can we do our laundry here?"  
  
Dooku inevitably chimed in with "May we..."  
  
Sören shot him a look, and Olórin smiled and nodded, patting Sören's shoulder.  
  
The dirty laundry was hauled out from the van, and the wash was started. Now Sören held Carrie as Dooku and Maglor took turns holding Maedelle. When the pizza arrived, Sören fell into hysterics again at the surreality of them eating pizza with Gandalf - the mere concept of Maglor eating pizza.  
  
But then, when they had their fill and Olórin insisted they take the rest with them for the road, Sören felt anxiety about getting back on the road. He felt anxiety about this entire thing, and he realized why.  
  
"I have no idea what I'm fucking doing," Sören choked out through his tears. "I don't even know how to change a diaper..."  
  
"I see," Olórin said.  
  
"I... I never expected to be a parent." Sören felt embarrassed. He felt ashamed, guilty, like he was an unfit guardian, was going to mess up irrevocably, despite his love for these little girls... "And now it's here and I don't know what to do -"  
  
"All right, let's start with... giving you a diaper-changing lesson."  
  
Dooku and Maglor also sat in for the diaper-changing lesson. Olórin gently cleaned Maedelle and changed her diaper as they observed, and then he said to Sören, "Now you."  
  
Sören cleaned Carrie. He felt awkward the entire time, worrying that he would hurt her in some way, like she was a delicate little doll. Then he did the diaper as he had been instructed, and managed to get it right the first time, even as he worked more slowly than Olórin had.  
  
Then Sören lost it again. "I learned... how to change a diaper... from Gandalf." It was too surreal. _That time I ate pizza with Gandalf and he taught me to change a diaper. Right after he had an eagle sit on top of Max the Moose to drop off directions to his house._  
  
"Don't say I never did anything for you, Fëanáro Finwion." The Maia's eyes twinkled with amusement. Then he folded his arms. "Do you have baby food, formula?"  
  
Sören nodded. "We loaded up on that before we left Iceland. Although..." Sören ran a nervous hand through his curls and rubbed his beard. "I don't know how often to feed them. Like, do I wait till they're crying, or...?"  
  
"Well, they could cry for any number of reasons. Needing their diaper changed. Being startled. Picking up on your distress, or the distress of the situation in general." Olórin looked back at the girls - Maglor and Dooku were dressing them now, bundling them up to go out into the cold - and then back at Sören. "They were born in March, and it's Tuesday, December first, so they're almost nine months old. They need between sixteen to twenty four ounces of formula a day, they also need baby food. I do the airplane when I feed them, sometimes I let them hold the spoon. They should have solid food three times a day."  
  
"How do you know so much about babies, anyway?" Sören asked.  
  
"Google," Olórin said matter-of-factly.  
  
Sören facepalmed, once again feeling like a dumbass. "Jæja, I should have looked stuff up too, but everything's been such chaos..."  
  
"It's completely understandable. Now you know," Olórin said.  
  
"And knowing is half the battle," Maglor muttered as he picked up Carrie.  
  
"What?" Sören asked.  
  
"Never mind," Maglor said. He looked at the clock. "Not to be a party pooper, but that one hotel in Kenora that let us have Huan is the one place I can guarantee we can go with a dog, for the time being, and it's close to six hours back that way so we need to leave as soon as possible."  
  
Sören sighed and nodded. He was reluctant to leave now, feeling like in rushing around they were potentially missing something important, but they didn't really have a choice, either.  
  
"You'll do fine," Olórin said, patting Sören again. "You were a good father to your sons, and you have that same heart. All new parents worry about getting it wrong, no matter how well-prepared they are, but you care enough that you'll find your way in no time."  
  
"I certainly hope so," Sören said, holding Maedelle, who was burbling. "I'm scared shitless right now."  
  
"Well, is there anything else you need or want to ask me?"  
  
Sören thought for a moment and then he remembered the little note he'd made to himself internally. "Olórin... who are they?" He craned his head towards Maedelle and gestured to Carrie, in Maglor's arms. "I mean, their names sound like Caranthir and Maedhros but that's too obvious, isn't it?"  
  
"Too obvious for Caranthir and Maedhros, yes, but throwing a curveball so you wouldn't guess correctly the first time - a bit of a prank - would be the style of your two youngest," Olórin said with a smile.  
  
"OH MY GOD." Sören felt even more like a dumbass for not having seen it right away; they were twins and everything, albeit fraternal this time. "You mean they're Pitya and Telvo?"  
  
"Yes, they're the Ambarussa." Olórin's smile broadened. He put his hand on Carrie's head. "Amrod." And on Maedelle's. "Amras."  
  
Sören's eyes met Maglor's - Maglor was tearing up now too. Maglor tried to compose himself but his jaw trembled and he held Carrie close for a moment, closing his eyes, silent tears flowing down his cheeks. Dooku put an arm around each of them and he was choked up as well. Sören knew this was a particularly bittersweet moment for him since Qui-Gon - Argon reborn - had died a little over two months ago, and Leja - Aredhel reborn - had terminal cancer and was dying or was already dead. He felt almost bad about it, but Dooku pet Sören's curls and Dooku told him across their bond, _As you know, I always regarded your children as being like my own. So at least two more have returned to us, and that is cause for some celebration._  
  
Sören swallowed hard. If anything happened to these kids... "Should I make them immortal?"  
  
" _No,_ " Maglor said, a bit vehemently. "At least... not yet."  
  
Olórin nodded. "Macalaurë is right. They're still children, if you make them immortal this young, they will be children eternally and that is rather... problematic."  
  
"Oh. Shit. Yeah." Sören realized, and frowned, feeling even more idiotic. "Sorry, I didn't -" He let out a deep sigh. "I'm just, you know. Worrying about something happening..."  
  
"I understand," Maglor said, and Olórin nodded again. "But they're not like our pets."  
  
"No," Olórin said. "And even if there was the chance that they would still age normally until they were young adults, they should be given a choice in the matter, when they are old enough to decide... immortality should not be forced on anyone."  
  
"Tell that to Vanimórë," Maglor said under his breath.  
  
"What?" Sören gave him a look, confused and a little annoyed. "And don't tell me never mind this time."  
  
"In another reality he forced immortality on Claire James," Maglor said. "She was dying. That version of me was... apparently not happy with him. I'm not really happy about it either, but." Maglor shrugged.  
  
"Yes, I can neither say that I blame him for not letting her die, nor can I fully condone the action," Olórin said. "But as far as the children are concerned, unless they are in a similar situation - and even then that is a very grey moral area - they ought to be old enough to decide for themselves, if this is the life they want."  
  
"OK. Fair enough." Sören nodded.  
  
That weighed heavily on Sören's mind as they took the girls, the dog, and the leftover pizza out to the van. He felt a pang of regret that no intervention had been made for Claire taking her own life in this world - not that he blamed Van for that, and there was likely some interference that kept him from finding her in time, just as there clearly was interference with finding Dag. He also found himself struggling with the moral ambiguity of forced immortality, seeing both sides of it, how Van couldn't let Claire die, and how that world's Maglor felt Claire had been condemned to the same sort of not-a-life that he'd been leading for far too long. Sören couldn't judge, nor could he condone, he could only hope and pray that he himself would never be put in a situation to make that sort of life-or-death decision for someone he loved.  
  
They lingered outside the van, and Sören went fishing. "Olórin? Where's Ara?"  
  
"Now you know I can't tell you that," Olórin said.  
  
"But you know he's around."  
  
"He's around." Olórin nodded. "The only thing I can tell you is that sometimes people and things show up in the least expected places. Right now, concentrate on getting the girls home safe."  
  
"OK."  
  
"One more thing..." Olórin made a "wait here" gesture. He went inside, and then he came back out with a round object wrapped in a cloth. He handed it to Sören, who peeled the cloth back and saw the same dark glass of the _palantir_ Maglor owned - the surface of the glass began to swirl with colors underneath, glitter like a snow globe but depicting space. Then the glass went dark again. "It may be a good idea to have two, for whatever reason."  
  
"Where are you going now?" Maglor asked. "Are you staying in Thunder Bay..."  
  
Olórin shook his head. "I'll be leaving Canada soon. I can't disclose where I'm going right now, but our paths will cross again in due time. And later, when it is time for you to fight the Valar..." Olórin bowed his head, a pained expression on his face; Sören could feel how much this hurt, to have his faith and trust in the Valar shattered as it had been. "I will stand with you." He met Sören's eyes, Dooku's, Maglor's. "Galadriel is working from within Valinor, to gather a resistance. It will take some time..."  
  
"She told me," Sören said, nodding.  
  
"But the day of reckoning will come. And hopefully, after that..." Olórin's eyes once again passed along the three of them. "Better gods. More just. But you have a journey to get there, my friends."  
  
"OK." Maglor handed Carrie to Dooku and came forward to hug his old friend. " _Tenna enta lúmë, namárië._ Be well, Olórin."  
  
" _Nai elen siluva lyenna, i arani Eldaron._ " He turned to Sören and Dooku, gesturing to the girls. "Keep them safe. Keep _yourselves_ safe. Good luck."


	30. You Can't Go Home Again

**You Can't Go Home Again**

After they left the Maia's safe house in Thunder Bay, Sören had the girls and Huan with him in the back seat. He tried to take a nap after a sleepless night at the hotel, but he kept waking up to make sure the girls were OK, and his brain began to worry once again about whether or not he'd be a good enough parent, if he'd inadvertently end up putting the girls in harm's way or screwing them up mentally. He worried about whatever was interfering with scrying for Dag - he tried to do it himself with the _palantir_ and couldn't get anything at all - and also worried about the missing persons report, and how soon it would take for that to gain broader notice... how much he and other members of his family would be recognized.

If Sören thought they had gotten a touch of disapproval as three men sharing a hotel room last night, it was even worse with two babies, who were also fussy by the time they got to the hotel, needing their diapers changed, needing to be fed. After they were changed and fed, they still continued to fuss, and Sören could hear loud complaints in the room adjacent to theirs. Sören tried to sleep again, but he kept worrying that the person complaining would take it to the desk and they'd be kicked out, or even worse, that the police would be called, with how suspicious the person looked at the concept of three men with a baby.

The next few days passed in a haze of Sören riding in the van trying to get what sleep he could, being woken up by crying babies, or being woken up by his own hypervigilance if the babies _weren't_ crying and his protective instincts thought they were too quiet and he needed to check to make sure they were still alive.

After the fraught night in the hotel in Kenora, they opted to camp in Yorkton the next night, except that meant Sören didn't sleep at all, his body uncomfortable and achy in a sleeping bag on the ground after two nights in a hotel room bed, aching intensified by not resting well the last couple of days, and every time his body tried to go to sleep he woke up, worried if the girls were warm enough in the tent, needing to check on them. Sören getting out of the sleeping bag every so often to check on the girls meant that Maglor and Dooku kept waking up.

They decided to risk hotels for the rest of the trip, not wanting another night like the last one. To minimize suspicion, they decided to rent separate rooms - Sören and the babies in one, Maglor and Dooku taking another and smuggling in Huan, Dooku using the Force to suggest a distraction to the concierge while Maglor brought Huan past. They reconvened in Sören's room, leaving the other room empty, not just because there was safety in numbers but they needed to stay together, needed the comfort of holding each other, snuggling together.

They also found after the first few rest stops on the way back that, taking the girls into a restaurant, inevitably a random stranger would remark on the babies, complimenting them or asking questions. Sören tried to see it as innocent enough but he remembered Dag being exposed in public thanks to a random stranger, and Charlie's caution to be careful of anyone and everyone, and he would have full-on hyperventilating panic attacks by the time they got back in the van. Which led to more angst, as Sören thought that with the way he was freaking out like this he maybe wasn't the best choice to be the girls' guardian, but it was also too dangerous to him to try to have two probably-Force-sensitive children fostered out, and his conscience would nag him if he left them with others even more than if he tried to take care of them himself, even with his paranoia and panic. _Maybe there'll be a time when it'll feel safe again and I won't be reacting this way,_ Sören told himself.

In the meantime, it was decided that eating inside restaurants wasn't happening, and they went to drive-thrus. Sören got sick of eating in the van, and eating out in general, missing a home-cooked meal.

He missed home, period. The moments of wonder and beauty in the presence of nature and the little quirky discoveries along the way - the giant sausage, Max the Moose - that had sustained them in the first few days of this voyage were no longer there as they ate at drive-thrus and slept in hotels. Sören was exhausted, shaken to the core. He just wanted to go home. Their journey still wouldn't be over yet once they got there - they would need baby furniture like a crib, they would need to think about the girls' future if Dag wasn't found for some time, as Sören feared - but at least they'd be someplace familiar, someplace warm...

It was on the last leg of the trip, on Friday December fourth, that Sören fell apart, missing Dag again, worrying that he'd fail Dag's daughters, feeling the most vulnerable that he'd ever felt in his entire life. Sören cried hard enough that Maglor had to pull over. Sören and Maglor got out of the van and Sören paced, nervous.

Sören finally addressed something that had been weighing on him. "It's easier for them to pick us off when we're scattered," Sören said, _them_ being nebulous, their enemies known and unknown. "We should move to Reykjavik."

"I thought you didn't want to live in the city again," Maglor said.

"I don't, really. And I feel kind of like the girls would be missing out down there, Akureyri has, you know, more nature. But Margrét doesn't want to come back to Akureyri, and I don't know, I'd just feel safer if we were close to Margrét and Frankie and Coldagnir, like in the same city..."

Maglor sighed.

Sören narrowed his eyes. It was the wrong time for this. "Look. I know you don't like him, you still have a problem with him. But in case you haven't fucking noticed, my family is in shorter supply these days. So even if you don't like him, I need you to at least be willing to call a truce, for _my_ sake, after what happened with Dag, and for the sake of these girls to not see their guardian such a damn wreck. A little less of a wreck, anyway."

Maglor gave him a hug and kissed Sören's forehead. "Moving to Reykjavik is kind of a big deal when we've already got a lot going on - like getting the girls settled in. Let's revisit this conversation when things have calmed down, but in the meantime I promised I wouldn't be shitty to Coldagnir and I will keep that promise to the best of my ability. I can't be warm to him right now, and _please_ don't press me on that point - I can't just get over the fact that he helped kill my father. But I can manage to be civil."

When they got back in the van, the babies were crying again. They were a half-hour away from Fort Smith. "Shhhhh, we'll be home soon," Sören said, petting them. "We'll be home soon and things will be OK." He continued to pet them and make soothing noises, and the girls cried and cried.

They entered Fort Smith and Sören felt almost like throwing up with relief.

"I know we've been avoiding restaurants where we have to eat inside, but that KFC doesn't have a drive-thru and my stomach is growling," Maglor said.

"What about that cashier?" Dooku asked. "What if he recognizes us..."

"He'll recognize us, but it's more that Jim Hewitt guy I'd be worried about since he thought we were going to Calgary. One of us can scout and see if he's in there... I might as well do it."

Sören wondered if Maglor was going to shoot him if Jim was in fact inside the KFC and recognized him. He hated that he even thought that. The babies cried louder, as if they were crying out _wanna go home_. Sören had a headache. Though he'd fed the babies in the van, it would be easier and less of a production inside the KFC where there were highchairs.

"Turn off the stereo for a few minutes," Sören said.

Then Sören began to sing, remembering his mother as he sang.

_There's a lady who's sure  
All that glitters is gold  
And she's buying a stairway to heaven  
When she gets there she knows  
If the stores are all closed  
With a word she can get what she came for  
Oh oh oh oh and she's buying a stairway to heaven_

The girls started to calm down a little.

_There's a sign on the wall  
But she wants to be sure  
'Cause you know sometimes words have two meanings  
In a tree by the brook  
There's a songbird who sings  
Sometimes all of our thoughts are misgiving_

_Ooh, it makes me wonder  
Ooh, it makes me wonder_

The girls quieted down, and Sören continued singing, even though his throat was dry and thinking of his mother hurt right about now. He sang all the way through to the end, and as the song ended they pulled into the KFC.

Maglor went in first to make sure Jim wasn't there, while Sören and Dooku sat in tense silence, both fearing the worst; Dooku reached for Sören's hand and squeezed. When Maglor came back and made the "go ahead" gesture, Sören once again felt that nauseating drop in adrenaline. It was almost over... they would eat, they would hike back to the rapids, they would disappear into the forest and re-appear at the Dimmuborgir, and then they would call Margrét and wait for her to fly up and drive them home. All of that still felt like too long. Sören was starting to cry again.

They got a bucket of chicken with mashed potatoes, gravy and biscuits, and sat down. Sören fed the girls before he started to eat himself, taking some enjoyment in doing the "airplane", the girls wrapping their tiny little hands around the spoon to help feed themselves, making a mess on their cute little faces. He could almost relax...

...The satellite phone went off.

Sören looked at Dooku and Maglor, and then Maglor said, "Here, I'll feed, you take the call," patting Sören on the shoulder.

"Hello?" Sören asked.

"Yes, hi, is this Sören?" came the Benedict Cumberbatch soundalike. "This is Anthony Wyatt-Jones..."

_Oh, shit._ Sören cleared his throat. "Speaking. Hi, Anthony, what's going on?"

"First of all, where are you right now?"

"Fort Smith. We were just about to head back -"

"Fuck, I got you just at the right time." Anthony exhaled sharply. "Sören, you can't go back to Akureyri."

Sören blinked. His stomach froze; his heart sank. _No. No. No..._ "What? I... I don't understand..."

"Sören. You. Cannot. Go. Back. To. Akureyri. Do you understand?"

"No, I don't. What's going on?"

"To make a long story short, it's too hot right now."

"Hot how?" Sören saw Maglor and Dooku snap to attention; Maglor's eyebrows shot up.

"So apparently, you going missing right after your brother's disappearance has... attracted the notice of the Canadian authorities, and Interpol. They went to Iceland."

"The..." Sören blinked again. "Do they know where my brother is?"

"No, as far as they claim. The problem is, now they're suspicious. As in, they've been interviewing your neighbors and people you know, and your next-door neighbors told them quite a story. There were some incidents earlier in November that... well... let's just say you haven't been very discrete about what you can do. It's why I'm calling you instead of Charlie, she's having to handle it."

"Oh, _Jesus._ "

"So I'm telling you now, Akureyri is a no-go."

"What are we supposed to do, then, if we can't -"

"Pick a place. Any place in the world, I will leave on a flight within the next two hours and get you set up. But I need to know _right now._ "

"Can I talk to my guys for a minute?"

"Yes, I'll hold. Make it fast."

Sören put the phone down. "We're fucked." He lowered his voice, even though it was just them in the restaurant and the cashier had gone back to the kitchen. "We can't go back to Akureyri. Feds are sniffing around..."

Maglor nodded. "I was afraid this would happen." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Ask him if we need to Portal."

Sören picked the phone back up. "Are you flying us, or are we taking the Portal -"

Anthony laughed. "You still need to take the Portal, and you still need to make it a remote, low-traffic location if possible. I'll arrange for a driver for you if it's a bit of a ways from where you guys want to relocate but I mean it, I need to know now, so decide."

Sören put the phone back down. "We need to Portal wherever we're going, but we'll get a driver if it's not, you know, the immediate location..."

Maglor rummaged in his knapsack and produced the map of the Portal network. He spread it out on the table. They looked it over, and then Sören had a flash of memory, from the summer of 2019 when the triad was new and everything felt hopeful, right after Sören and Dooku had chosen to accept immortality and damn the consequences, before they took Van's blood to make it happen. It seemed naive in hindsight to feel that way...

_Maglor was wearing a robe, and Sören sat up. After sitting together, petting, they resumed their stations, Maglor continuing to work on his song, and Sören his painting. Sören was still naked, and didn't care._

_The thunder stopped and it was just rain, and finally, after seven AM, they decided to call it a night. Sören wasn't done yet, but he'd managed to get the three of them laying on a blanket in a garden, and just needed the rest of the background and the sky. Maglor surveyed the painting._

_"That's gorgeous," he said._

_Sören smiled. "I have no idea where that is," he said. "Just... you know, saw it, and painted it."_

_"Well..." Maglor pointed to a bird perching on a rock. "I recognize the bird. That's a kookaburra."_

_"Oh. That's, um, an Australian bird, right?"_

_Maglor nodded. "Those flowers right there, those are waratahs. Also Australian."_

_"You ever live in Australia?"_

_"No, but I've visited a few times. It was one of the places I wanted to take you, when we were together, before."_

_"That's amazing, cos I swear I've never seen this bird or these plants before." Sören chuckled. "Looks like we might go on holiday." Except the word he almost said, and just-in-time stopped himself from saying, wasn't holiday. It was honeymoon._

"Where do waratahs grow?" Sören asked Maglor.

"Southeast Australia. New South Wales, Victoria... Tasmania..."

Sören looked at the map. "Can we go to Sydney?"

Maglor looked at Dooku, and Dooku nodded. "It would probably be less of a culture shock for me, being British, than if we went somewhere else," Dooku said. "I know eventually we won't have that luxury but for the first move..."

Maglor had a pained look on his face and Sören could feel it - he knew that sooner or later they'd have to start moving around with him, but he was hoping they'd have at least another few years in Akureyri, and then when the news of Dag came...

_You knew we were going to have to leave,_ Sören told him in the Force. _That's why you told us we needed summer clothes for the trip too._

Maglor nodded. He closed his eyes and Sören saw tears slide down his cheeks.

The cashier came back out and Sören felt Dooku push with the Force. "You want to go back in the kitchen for the next fifteen minutes," Dooku commanded.

"I want to go back in the kitchen for the next fifteen minutes," the cashier repeated, and walked off.

"God, I hate doing that." Dooku cringed as he turned back to them.

Sören looked at the map again, not wanting to leave Anthony hanging. "The only Portal in Australia where I can guarantee right now we probably won't have an issue is this," Maglor said, "which is Uluru." He pointed and Sören let out a low whistle.

"Jesus _fuck_ , that's a long way from Sydney."

Sören picked the phone back up. "Anthony, we're going to Sydney, Australia."

"Brilliant," Anthony said. "Where are you coming in?"

"Uluru."

" _Fuck me._ "

"Maybe," Sören teased, desperately needing some levity in the situation.

"All right, Sören, there's one more thing."

_Of course there is._ "Oh god, what."

"You probably already figured this out when I said you can't go back to Akureyri... but the situation in Iceland is hot enough that we're going to need to make you disappear. In order to help you get set up, I need you to decide aliases and I'd prefer that you choose them yourselves so it's something you can commit to memory more easily."

That was a non-trivial decision. "Do we have time -"

"No, Sören, you really don't, I have a _lot_ of documentation that I have to put together for the lot of you, including the girls, so the sooner I get on that the less of a pain in the arse this will be for everyone involved. You knew the day was coming when you would have to relocate, yes it's sooner than anticipated but you already should have been planning -"

"OK, I don't need a lecture right now if it's all the same to you, I'm stressed out as _fuck_ -"

"I'm sure you are. _We all are._ I've been up for the last eighteen hours waiting on the final confirmation from Charlie that your situation was FUBAR before I called you with the news. But that's the nature of an emergency - you don't have the luxury of any more time to decide. I need you to come up with aliases for yourselves and the girls right now."

"Right now right now."

"When I say right now, I bloody well mean _right now._ "

"Couple minutes, please."

"I'll hold."

Sören put the phone down. "We have to come up with fake names too."

"Yeah, that goes without saying." Maglor made a face. "Well, I was using Mark Lowry as recently as 2019 in Anchorage so I can't use that again. I'll trot out another alias I haven't used in awhile... Marcus Lauer." He looked at Dooku, then at Sören. "For the two of you, I would suggest something close enough to your names that you won't slip up and forget -"

"Yes. All right." Dooku frowned, concentrating, then he said, "I think I shall adopt a Belgian persona, since I speak enough Dutch and French to make it somewhat convincing. Nicolaas DeKok -"

Sören spat his orange soda, not able to help it. Even as stressed out as he was, his mind still went there. "DeKok."

" _DeKok_ , yes. N-I-C-O-L-A-A-S, D-E-K-O-K..."

"DeKok," Sören snickered; Maglor was trying not to laugh himself.

Dooku glared. "Your turn..."

"I need another minute or two. What are we naming the girls?"

Maglor looked at Carrie with her black hair, Maedelle with her red hair. "Kate and Tori," he said. "After two of my favorite female artists, Kate Bush and Tori Amos."

Sören got back on the phone. "Mark will use Marcus Lauer. German. Nico will use Nicolaas DeKok -"

Anthony chuckled.

Sören tried not to laugh again, but Anthony laughing with him made him gigglesnort. "N-I-C-O-L-A-A-S, first name, D-E-K-O-K surname... He's Belgian now..."

"Got it."

"The dark-haired girl is Kate, the redhead is Tori... ah... Lauer..."

"Got it, and what about you?"

Sören rubbed his beard, his mind drawing a blank. "Ah..."

"Sören, we don't have time. Here, I can maybe help - you speak Danish as a third language, yes? Something Danish..."

"OK." He thought hard. "Ah... Stefan..."

"Good..."

"...Kierkegaard."

There was a long pause and then Anthony mumbled, "The most common form of despair is not being who you are."

Sören almost liked him already. "Jæja, so let's go with that. Stefan Kierkegaard."

"Will do. I will see you in Sydney, Mr. Kierkegaard -"

"Anthony, wait." Sören felt a surge of panic. "So... you... you're going to make us disappear."

"That's the plan, yes."

"I... my family. _My cats._ I can't lose them."

"We'll be in touch with your family to let them know the real truth of what's going on, so we can provide a safe way for you to make contact, and I'll make sure you get your cats. I'm a cat person too, I know how important that is."

"OK. And... well... we have a bunch of stuff at the house in Akureyri -"

"Sören, things can be replaced, I'll make sure you have everything you need in Sydney -"

"No, you don't get it, there are things that _can't_ be replaced." Sören exhaled sharply.

"It's a bit risky to try to get someone into your house to get your things -"

"Please, _try._ I'm not asking for a lot, but there are some really important, irreplaceable things in there." Sören swallowed hard, tears burning his eyes. "My paintings. There are three swords on a sword rack, two of which are... really old, family heirlooms..."

"And my journals," Maglor said. "All my musical compositions are in there..."

"And Mark's diaries. The sword rack is in the living room, the paintings are in a closet in the bedroom we turned into a studio, and... Mark's journals are on a bookshelf in that room. There are other things that would be nice to have but not mandatory, like my plants..." _Oh god, my plants. They've been sitting there for almost two weeks..._ Sören started to cry a little. "Please."

Anthony sighed. "OK. I'll see what we can do, but please understand the situation in Akureyri is _very_ hot and we run the risk of blowing everything if we don't do this carefully -"

"I understand. Just, please. If you can."

"Is that all?"

"That's... that's all. Do you want me to call you when we arrive at Uluru?"

"Please do so as soon as possible when you arrive, and then I'm going to need you to stay put till I get a driver out to you. I'll go ahead and make reservations for you guys now at a nearby hotel while you wait for the driver to come out to take you to Sydney, I'll get a cab to pick you up and get you to the hotel once you've called me -"

"We have... too much stuff to fit into a cab, probably."

"Decide then what you're taking and what you're leaving behind, unless you want to stay at Uluru all day till I can arrange a driver with a bigger trunk space. Just so you know, it's summertime in Australia now, and it's going to be about 37 Celsius when you get there."

" _Jesus._ " Sören was already sort of regretting his decision to move to Australia.

"I'll see you in a few days, Mr. Kierkegaard. Have a safe journey."

_Nothing is safe. Nothing will ever be safe again._ Sören broke down crying, and the babies cried too.

_

_Blackheath, London, England  
10:12 PM local time_

Anthony Wyatt-Jones got up from his chair in the second-floor sitting room, down the hall from his boyhood bedroom - where he'd been living since October - and he stopped in the bedroom and grabbed the suitcase from the bed that he'd packed to go at a moment's notice. He quickly loped down the stairs, pausing a moment to look at himself in the mirror at the foyer. He'd at least got a shower in a few hours ago while he was waiting for the verdict from Charlie, but he still looked like he hadn't slept, tired circles under his eyes. He was dressed too informally for the office but with intent to be comfortable and inconspicuous for travel - a navy blue cashmere sweater and faded jeans with leather brogues that would service him well under his greatcoat for English winter, not so much when he got to Sydney. And he was going to need lighter clothes for summer, only having a couple "just in case" outfits appropriate for warmer weather in his suitcase, not knowing where the three men in Canada would choose to relocate to until several minutes ago.

The last ten days had been difficult; now the real work started. Anthony both thrived on the adrenaline and very much just wanted to fucking _sleep_.

First he had to say goodbye to his mum. He'd moved back home in October after he'd had a random panic attack at work that made him trip and fall down a flight of stairs, spraining his left ankle. It hadn't been the injury that had forced him out of his flat in central London but the nightmares, feeling himself die in a flash of white like a nuclear explosion... and the horrible, horrible depression. He was taking antidepressants for it now, at his mother's insistence - he had cashed in vacation time he hadn't taken back in October and promptly stayed in bed for most of the week, feeling like everything was hopeless bullshit, sick at all that was wrong with the world - climate change, senseless acts of violence, the resurgence of far-right politics and hateful rhetoric like the days before World War 2... feeling concerned at the responses of world leaders to increased reports of "psychics" which included the people his agency tried to protect...

...people like himself, and to a lesser degree, his mum. He feared it was only a matter of time before people like them were hunted - he feared it was what happened to the scientist who had gone missing. It was important to keep calm, to make decisions with a cool, rational head, but just the same, Anthony couldn't shake the feeling that his department at MI6 was going to have to work even harder in the not-too-distant future to keep their handful of "special cases" under the Queen's guard.

In the meantime... Anthony came into the greatroom where Elaine Wyatt-Jones sat in a bathrobe and pajamas, her nose in a book, and her cat Theo - a Siamese she'd adopted from their late neighbor - on her lap. She looked up when she heard Anthony's brogues _thock_ on the floor, and Anthony reached out with his hand and the book floated in the air over to him. "Jules Verne?" Anthony's lips quirked. "Wasn't he canceled?"

"Ha ha very funny Cassius Anthony." Elaine made the "give it" gesture - her telekinetic abilities were not as strong as her son's, and tended to produce a headache if she used them, so it was something to reserve for emergencies.

Anthony let go and sent the book floating back over. "Fitting you're reading _Around the World in Eighty Days_ \- I myself am about to go on a _grand voyage._ " He reached for the coatrack and his greatcoat floated over to him.

Elaine put the book down on the coffee table. "Where are you going, dear?"

His family had known when he was in Britain's Special Boat Service; he'd been recruited into "the Department that Doesn't Exist" of MI6 after his use of telekinesis to save him and his team from a death trap aboard an Iranian tanker they'd been ordered to intercept had been captured on video. To most of the world he was an employee of Apollyon Enterprises, which his department did in fact contract for help in certain situations, such as relocations. But his mother knew the deeper truth - not that he'd be able to hide it from her anyway. And she knew that this was part and parcel of his line of work, there were times when he might have to drop everything and go halfway around the world on a moment's notice.

"Sydney," Anthony said, putting on his greatcoat, floating over the cashmere scarf.

"Well. That's... far."

"Yeah, it is." Anthony looked away, feeling a pang of guilt - moving back home in October had been good for his mother, not just necessary for him - and a pang of loneliness. He still wasn't completely OK after his mini-breakdown, not really; he'd returned to work, and the antidepressants had helped somewhat, but mostly he just felt like in forty years he had nothing to show for his life and it didn't even matter anyway because the world was fucked. And he hated that feeling, remembering the firebrand idealist he'd been in his younger years, even as recently as a few years ago, feeling like he was doing his part to save the world. Now...

"Maybe a change of scenery would be good for you, dear." Elaine nodded. "It's summer down there now, isn't it? That might help with seasonal depression..."

"They get winter there too, Mum. Just... you know. The opposite time of year." It felt like an idiotic thing to say.

"Will you be there for their winter?" Elaine looked towards the fireplace, her stocking and Anthony's hung on the mantle.

"I should only be gone a few weeks at most on this assignment," Anthony said. "I should be back before the holidays."

And yet, as soon as the words were out of his mouth, Anthony had the sinking feeling that there would be complications - things were already complicated, blowing up in Iceland like they were; he did not envy Charlie right now. And he could tell from the wistful look on his mum's face that she somehow knew it too.

"Well..." Elaine pursed her lips. "I'm still a bit worried about you..."

"I know. But I'm fine."

Their eyes met, her eyes green like his own, behind wire-rimmed glasses like the ones he wore when he didn't have his contacts in. _You're really not, Cassius Anthony._ But she didn't argue with him past that point. "You shouldn't go alone." She got up, and for a minute Anthony was going to protest that she couldn't go to Sydney with him, but then he saw her use telekinesis - knowing she'd pay for it later with a headache - and he peeked and saw the hall closet door open, the cat carrier float out. She picked up Theo and brought him over to Anthony, who gave him skritches. "I know that being here with the cat has helped a lot. You need him more than I do."

With that, Elaine put Theo in the cat carrier - Theo meowed at being put in, and made a helpless whine once the door was shut. She handed the cat carrier to her son.

"I'll have to do some bureaucratic maneuvering, there's a ten-day quarantine usually and that's far too long for just a few weeks..." Even though, again, Anthony had that nagging suspicion he would be in Sydney for awhile.

"I won't tell," Elaine said.

"You're sure, Mum?" Anthony felt guilty, hearing the cat meow again. "You love him too..."

"I do. But I love _you_ , and... you need it." Elaine nodded.

Anthony put the cat carrier on the floor for a moment and pulled his mother into a fierce, tight hug. _Don't you dare cry,_ he told himself, but got choked up anyway.

Elaine let go first, squeezing his shoulders, and gave him a pat. "Enjoy Sydney," she said.

"I'm there for business, not pleasure, but I'll try."

"You can mix business with pleasure, you know."

_Not in my line of work._ "I'll see you in a few weeks, Mum."

"Have a safe trip, Anthony."

Before he could get too far down the walkway, Elaine stood on the front step and called out, "I love you."

"I love you too." He couldn't look back, or he'd fall apart. He put Theo's carrier in the front passenger seat, his suitcase in the back, and then he got behind the wheel, taking a few deep breaths to pull himself together.

He drove into light snow, to coordinates where he'd board a private company jet - far less sophisticated than the movies made it look however, as he was going with a shipment of cargo to mask his entrance, look less conspicuous. He felt a strange sense of foreboding as he drove, and he chose one of Jamiroquai's slower songs from his playlist, reflecting his pensive mood.

_He sees the stormy anger of the world  
And wants no part of it at all  
And as the weeping leaves of Autumn curl  
He feels the savage winter call  
See far below the dust of conflict settles on the hill  
Where there was no escape before  
And as he spreads his wings and soars up to another level  
He brings the icy prophecies of war_

_Black crow, black crow, tell me where you really go_   
_When you fly into the sunset, high in evening sky,_   
_Black crow, black crow, tell me what you really know_   
_Will we flourish in this hurricane, or will we fall and die?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The scene with the painting that Sören remembers is from [chapter 35 of _Chains of Eternity_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18070109/chapters/45178831).


	31. A Land Down Under

**A Land Down Under**

  
  
  
It was one thing to be told that it was Australian summer and hot, it was another thing entirely to come into it from the freezing cold of the Northwest Territories of Canada. It was like stepping into an oven. Sören almost faceplanted as he stepped out of the energy vortex just a few meters from the monolith of Uluru, the heat sucking him in, every step leaden.  
  
The heavy winter gear he needed to wear in Canadian winter had to come off, _right now_. Right then and there Sören began to undress, as did Maglor and Dooku. This was not a sexy moment, however; all Sören could think of was the change of lighter clothing that he desperately rummaged for now.  
  
Maglor had packed him two outfits. The black Joy Division shirt and faded jeans still seemed like too much clothing, but it would have to do. Once Sören had his T-shirt on, but before he could pull on his jeans, he went to the girls in their pram - they needed to be changed as well. In a panic, feeling like every second was of the essence to keep them from overheating, Sören put them in the little summer dresses that Maglor had packed for them. Kate was in a yellow dress with pink flowers, and Tori was in a pink dress with yellow flowers. The girls were fussing again. "I know," Sören said, tears coming to his eyes at their tears. "I know."  
  
The sooner they could get out of the sun, the better. Still in his T-shirt and boxer briefs, Sören used the Force to pull over the satellite phone. He turned it on and the phone adjusted to show local time - Uluru was sixteen hours and thirty minutes ahead of where they'd just left in Canada and it was now a little after eight AM where they were - Saturday and not Friday anymore. _It's only eight in the morning and it's already this hot._ Sören was afraid to know what it would be like closer to noon.  
  
After they got some meters away from the rock - it felt somehow disrespectful to use technology until they'd put a little distance between them - Sören speed dialed Anthony Wyatt-Jones. "We're here," Sören said.  
  
"OK. A cab is coming to take you to the hotel - you'll have to walk to the park entrance, GPS on your satellite phone will help you - and then you'll be waiting for our driver. It'll take her a couple days to reach you, since she's coming from far away herself -"  
  
"You... you can't put her on a plane?"  
  
"No, we can't risk it, she's having to drive to you, so you're going to have to sit tight for a couple days. I'm sorry about that. The hotel is nice, though, and all your expenses will be charged to me and my department. Tell the concierge your room is under the name Wyatt-Jones."  
  
"So..." Sören rubbed his beard. He was starting to sweat. "Stupid question, but is the cab a regular cab? How will the driver know it's us?"  
  
"It's a regular cab service, yes, so the car should be clearly marked, and the driver has been given your description."  
  
"All right. And... the driver who's picking us up at the hotel on, ah, Monday, I guess? It's a she?"  
  
"It's a she. I'll call you when she's almost there, you'll need to go wait for her in the hotel lobby after my call. She'll ask you 'what is the ultimate answer to Life, the Universe, and Everything?' and your answer is..."  
  
"Forty-two." Sören smiled a little.  
  
"Very good. And this probably goes without saying, Sören, but I need you guys to stay put at the hotel once you're brought there, until your driver shows up. Even if you get bored, just..."  
  
"Right now I'm _tired_ ," Sören said, hearing the weary edge in his voice, "and I want to fucking go home." The girls were still crying; Maglor was trying to get them to calm down.  
  
"I understand. Well, the hotel should be very comfortable and hopefully will be a nice rest before you start on the next leg of your journey."  
  
"How long is it from here to Sydney?"  
  
"Close to thirty hours one-way."  
  
" _Jesus._ "  
  
"Your driver is a professional so she can make that in a little less than three days, driving eleven hours each day. You'll be home soon, Sören."  
  
 _This isn't home. Iceland is home, but I can't go back, can I._ Sören sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.  
  
"On that note I have to go, I pulled over to take this call and I have to get on a plane. Call me if your cab doesn't show in six hours -"  
  
"Six hours. _What_."  
  
"You're a long way out from anywhere else, that's the fastest cab that can be dispatched, it's coming from Alice Springs. And it's going to take you awhile _anyway_ to walk from the rock to the park entrance, if I've done my maths correctly."  
  
 _Fuck._ Sören made noises.  
  
"Now you see why I had the reaction I did when you said you were coming in via Uluru," Anthony went on.  
  
"Jæja, you guys insisted that we use a low-traffic Portal -"  
  
"No shit, I know what I said," Anthony snapped. He sounded as cranky as Sören felt. "Anyway... as I was saying... call me if the cab isn't there in six hours, I have to catch my flight now, and either way call me when you get to the hotel, all right?"  
  
"OK - wait - on a plane? You can't take calls in-flight, can you?"  
  
"I'm on a satellite phone like you are."  
  
Sören felt like an idiot for not realizing that. Then, in his fluster of self-consciousness, he found himself going there, his default coping mechanism of lame humor. "Hi On A Satellite Phone Like You Are -"  
  
Anthony gave a tired chuckle. "Bye, Sören."  
  
The call ended. Sören felt a brief pang of guilt for not at least saying "thank you" to Anthony - he knew Anthony was running himself ragged on his end too.  
  
Sören put on his jeans. It was still too much clothing for this weather. Huan whined, and Sören realized the dog was thirsty. They were going to need to keep the girls hydrated too...  
  
"We're going to wait for the cab at the park entrance," Sören said. He was already exhausted; he glanced ahead at the desert scrub, shimmering in the heat. "Fuck. This. Shit."  
  
Huan whined again, and Maglor got the dog some water.  
  
Dooku put an arm around Sören for just a minute - enough to be reassuring, but not wanting to overheat Sören further. "I must say," Dooku said, looking back some meters at the massive sandstone monolith, "that is even more gorgeous in person than it is in photos or on television."  
  
Sören looked at it too. Dooku knew Sören well enough to try to keep his morale up by appealing to the artist in him, his eye for beauty. He tried to distract himself from the oppressive heat and worrying about the babies - worrying about everything - by focusing on the rock for a short while. He'd been here once before with Van, very briefly, when Van was showing him how the Portal network worked; it had been Australian winter, and night, and they'd seen the aurora australis together. Here, under the blue sky, the monolith was no less impressive, and Sören could see why the indigenous Australians thought it to be sacred. There were plenty of people around the world who would give just about anything for a chance to see Uluru, and as horrific as this experience had largely been, he had a moment of gratitude... of wonder. He could feel the Living Force thrum in the land around them, the wild, primal energy of the rock and the trees at the base of the rock, the desert scrub surrounding it. He got a few pictures with his cell phone, before the sweat from even that small movement stung his eyes and he had to stop.  
  
It was an eighteen kilometer walk from the rock to the park entrance, which took them approximately three hours at a moderate pace. Pulling their gear on the toboggans and walking with only the briefest of rest stops in the sun and high heat - even then, not restful as they worked to cool down the babies - was a test of Sören's strength and endurance. He questioned the sanity of hauling everything with them if they were going to have to leave some stuff in the cab but he knew leaving things behind at the rock itself would be disrespectful to an Aboriginal sacred site.  
  
And even then, there was another moment of quiet awe, as they encountered a wallaby hopping in the brush. Sören squeaked. Huan behaved, and the wallaby stood still long enough for Sören to get a picture.  
  
"It's so cute, I'm gonna die," Sören said.  
  
Dooku chuckled and gave him a little kiss. "You're cute."  
  
"You're cuter," Sören teased.  
  
Dooku glared. "I am not cute -"  
  
"Hi Not Cute -"  
  
"We need to keep moving." Maglor smiled at them, but his eyes were tired.  
  
Sören was never so glad in his life to be able to sit down, when they made it to the park entrance. But then the waiting for the next three hours, into the afternoon, was almost unbearable. The sun baked hotter. What was left of their water supply quickly vanished with giving water to Huan, giving water to the girls from a bottle, using some of the water to try to keep the babies cool and keep them from overheating - even having been chilled by spending time outside in the Canadian winter, their keg of water quickly heated under the relentless Australian sun, and Sören feared it wasn't enough to keep the babies from overheating. Sören, Maglor and Dooku also drank water, Sören cringing when the water was warm enough to have that unpleasant edge to it. Pouring sweat, exhausting their water supply, Sören stripped down to his boxer-briefs, no longer caring if he was indecent when the cab arrived.  
  
They made shade for the girls' pram out of Maglor's winter coat used as a canopy and Huan lay under the pram for more shade. Maglor began going through their gear on the toboggans, since Sören had relayed the message they'd need to dump some of it to fit into the cab. Sören made sure to take the Silmarils and cell phone out of his coat pocket - and Maglor made a "to keep" pile with the little bit of summer clothing, Sören's sketchbooks, the formula, baby food and dog food, the diapers, the car seats, what was left of the cash - now consolidated into one briefcase with the fake documentation that would soon be obsolete - and the pistols, satellite phone, the _palantir_ Gandalf gave them, and Maglor's harp. Sören gave a sad look at the toboggans, their tent and sleeping bags, the flashlights, the winter clothing, that they were discarding. Sören felt guilty about leaving things behind, it felt like littering - at least it wasn't being left at the rock itself, but it was still pretty bad - and he hoped that someone would come by who might take whatever they left behind, finding use for it.  
  
And as difficult as the trip had been, he also wished he had some sort of souvenir apart from the pictures he'd taken.  
  
 _Well, I learned how to change a diaper._ And the girls needed changing now.  
  
The girls fussed some more and Sören, Maglor and Dooku tried to comfort them. Even in his underwear, Sören felt like he could die in this heat and it was getting hotter by the minute. He was terrified for the girls, trying to cool them with a wet washcloth. "Shhhh, it's OK. We'll get you safe soon..." But it felt like empty promises, like lies.  
  
Sören started to cry again, even as he knew crying was spending water his body needed. He had never felt so completely vulnerable and helpless in his life - not even when he was at his worst times with Justin Roberts - here in the Australian outback in his underwear with the sun frying him, stranded and waiting for a stranger to get them, and then waiting some more for another stranger to take them into the complete unknown. He'd known back in 2019 when he took Van's blood that the day would eventually come that he'd have to not simply follow Maglor around, but adopt Maglor's life for his own - moving from place to place, taking a new name, trying to find the balance in keeping a low profile in the age of Google and face recognition technology without going mad from isolation. He didn't know that it would come this soon, or that it would be the Force forcing his hand, after he'd learned from a young age to be so careful... that his own neighbors would sell him out to the Feds. Those fights in the backyard during the business with Coldagnir...  
  
Sören frowned up at the sun. "Hey, Coldagnir, you think you could chill?" Sören muttered.  
  
Maglor heard him and snorted. "Oh, Sören."  
  
Sören whined in frustration. The babies cried too.  
  
Maglor sighed and then he cleared his throat and began to sing:  
  
 _Sun is shining in the sky  
There ain't a cloud in sight  
It's stopped raining  
Everybody's in the play  
And don't you know  
It's a beautiful new day  
Hey ay ay!_  
  
The girls started to settle down a little; Dooku managed a weak smile, looking as tired as Sören felt.  
  
 _Runnin' down the avenue  
See how the sun shines brightly  
In the city  
On the streets where once was pity  
Mr. Blue  
Sky is living here today  
Hey ay ay!  
  
Mr. Blue Sky  
Please tell us why  
You had to hide away  
For so long (so long)  
Where did we go wrong?_  
  
The girls were quiet now. Maglor continued on:  
  
 _Hey you with the pretty face  
Welcome to the human race_  
  
"Jæja, you're at least finally acknowledging he's pretty," Sören muttered before he could stop himself, it just came out; Sören knew he had a distinct lack of brain-to-mouth filter when he was this exhausted.  
  
Maglor glared. "I'm not acknowledging anything."  
  
Sören patted him. "Sure. You don't think Coldagnir is pretty, and Van's not your boyfriend -"  
  
"Ada, _now is not the time._ "  
  
Sören grinned despite himself; Dooku tried not to laugh and Maglor glared at him too, which made Sören laugh and give him a little kiss.  
  
Sören leaned on Dooku and kept checking the time. At long last they saw a cab coming down the road. Maglor got up and when the cab came within range, he ran to it - Sören was impressed he could run in this heat - and Sören watched through the daze he was in as Maglor talked to the driver. Then Maglor nodded and came back over to them.  
  
Sören got dressed. Dooku and Maglor carried what they were taking from their belongings, and Huan trotted along with Maglor; Sören pushed the pram. He loaded the girls into their car seats. Maglor got in the passenger's seat and Dooku and Sören got in the back, with the girls in their car seats next to Sören. Huan had to ride in back, stretching out between Sören and Dooku. The cab was blissfully air-conditioned, and Sören started to cry again, this time from relief.  
  
Their cab driver was middle-aged, weathered and scruffy-looking, wearing an AC/DC T-shirt and jean shorts. He had on a khaki boonie hat, so Sören couldn't tell if he had hair or not, or what color. "How ya doin'," he said.  
  
"Hot," Sören said honestly. He had a headache now and he felt weak and shaky.  
  
"I was told ya might need some fluids." He reached into his glove compartment - for a split second Sören panicked, not knowing what was in there - and he pulled out what looked like a cloth lunch bag. There was a freezer pack inside to keep the contents cool, and there were three bottles of Gatorade for the adults, a bottle of Pedialyte for the girls, and a bottle of unflavored Pedialyte "for your dog," the driver said.  
  
 _Thank you, Anthony._ Despite not knowing who he was apart from a very sexy voice, Sören could have kissed him for letting the driver know they would need hydration immediately.  
  
Sören was dismayed to find out it was over five hours one way to Alice Springs, where their hotel room was waiting for them - Anthony had called it a "nearby hotel" several hours ago, but he supposed when you were that far in the middle of nowhere, "nearby" was relative.  
  
They went through the Gatorade in no time, and Sören was still thirsty. He also felt nauseated, and then his leg started to cramp up. He hadn't had a leg cramp in what felt like ages - since before he'd become immortal - and it wasn't just painful but it was alarming. As much as Sören hated crying in front of strangers, the pain and his body's panic response to the pain made him start to cry. Dooku grabbed Sören's leg and propped it up as best as he could in the back seat of the cab, massaging - Sören felt the Force radiating in his hands. The energy in Dooku's hands made the muscle spasm stop, though there was a lingering achiness like Sören had pulled a muscle from how hard his leg wrenched. Dooku continued to rub.  
  
"You have heat exhaustion," Dooku said matter-of-factly. "We're going to need to get more fluids in you as soon as possible."  
  
Sören knew that if he was immortal and his body was responding like this, it would have been even worse if he wasn't immortal, he likely would have had flat-out heatstroke. That made him panic for the girls, who were flushed - sunburnt despite their best effort to shade them outside. He felt their skin and it was warm. Sören continued to administer Pedialyte with the bottle, chanting " _skít, skít, skít, skítur_ " under his breath. _I'm an unfit parent, these poor babies..._  
  
Sören took a few deep breaths. He had been to medical school, he had gotten as far as an internship at a hospital and he would have passed and become a full-fledged doctor if he hadn't had a nervous breakdown. He drew on his emergency training, trying to make himself calm down for the sake of these girls, which was easier said than done. "Can I see your freezer pack?" Sören asked the driver. For once, Dooku didn't even mutter "may I", looking too exhausted himself.  
  
Sören took the freezer pack, wrapped it in the washcloth he'd been using to try to cool down the babies, and each girl got a turn with the freezer pack held against their skin, back and forth. They felt less hot as time went on, which was a small relief; Sören was still concerned about the sunburn, and making sure they got enough fluid and electrolytes.  
  
The drive to Alice Springs was long enough that with the time zone difference having come from Canada, and Sören's exhaustion from the long walk and the heat, Sören started falling asleep in the back seat. He kept waking himself up to check on the girls, panicking each time his body threw him awake. He had a better appreciation now for why Dag had sounded so tired the first few months after they were born - he hadn't even had these girls in his custody for a full week yet and already he was worn out, and he had Maglor and Dooku helping him.  
  
At last they made it to the resort. Anthony had spared no expense with getting them in someplace classy, even as Sören felt like a pauper with not much other than the clothes on his back and no guarantee that he would get any of his belongings from home in Akureyri. At the front desk Maglor let the concierge know they had the suite under the name Wyatt-Jones, and they were led out with no trouble, no fuss about the dog, not even a dirty look at being three men with two babies.  
  
They passed by laundry facilities on the way to the suite, which gave Sören some relief since they had limited clothing with them. They had a suite done in tasteful neutral colors - a king-sized bed and a double crib, a living room with a comfy couch, ottomans, a coffee table and a huge flat-screen TV and a stereo, a kitchenette with a bar, and there was a black marble-finish jacuzzi in the bathroom, as well as a baby changing station. The suite had glass sliding doors in the living room area that led out to a deck which in turn led out to a pristine, inviting-looking inground Grecian-style swimming pool. " _Jesus_ ," Sören said, letting out a low whistle.  
  
There was a restaurant at the resort, but the concierge also gave them menus for room service, seeming to know how exhausted they were. Sören's first action was to put the girls in their cribs, and then he flomped on the bed with a little scream. He knew the girls needed to be changed and fed, and he'd handle that after he'd stretched out for a bit. Now his other leg was cramping, and Sören felt like he was going to throw up.  
  
After Dooku massaged the cramp out of Sören's leg, he went over to the kitchenette. The fridge in the kitchenette was loaded up with Gatorade and Pedialyte, again Anthony had seemed to know they were going to need it after six hours at Uluru, telling the concierge to stock their room. Dooku used the Force to thrust a bottle of Gatorade at Sören, and Sören chugged it. Dooku came back over to the bed to pet Sören, the Force still radiating in his hands, trying to soothe Sören.  
  
"The girls..." Sören croaked out.  
  
Maglor got out their baby food, and then as he picked up Kate he observed she needed to be changed, making a face. He went to the bathroom with the girls - Sören made a weak noise of protest, feeling like he was slacking off on his responsibilities, and Dooku held out his arm to keep Sören from getting up.  
  
"We're all their fathers now," Dooku assured him. "You need to take care of yourself first."  
  
"I'm sorry." Sören teared up again.  
  
Dooku continued petting him, the energy flowing from his hands. "No need to be sorry."  
  
Maglor came out with the girls a few minutes later; he'd found aloe vera in the bathroom to help with the sunburn. Sören insisted on at least doing that for them, even as awful as he felt that the babies had gotten sunburned in the first place. Sören knew he'd be as red as a lobster right now if the immortality hadn't changed his physiology to make him more resistant to injury, and even so, he still felt lingering sickness from having been out in the heat exerting himself. Sören pushed the Force into his touch, even though he knew that was additional exertion.  
  
Kate and Tori were fed - watching the girls eat, and seeing that they had enough energy to perk up at the "airplane" and hold their spoons, made Sören smile weakly. Sören, Maglor and Dooku took turns holding the babies after they were fed, before putting them back in their cribs. Then Sören flomped back on the king-sized bed, wanting to sleep already.  
  
"Ada, you need to eat something," Maglor said.  
  
"Ugh." Sören had no appetite - a lingering symptom of the heat exhaustion. He rolled over and made a noise into the pillows.  
  
"No, really, you need to eat something. Here, I'll call up room service -"  
  
"Oh shit," Sören said, looking at the clock. "Was supposed to call Anthony when we got here..." He used the Force to grab the satellite phone and pull it over to the bed. Even that felt like too much now, something that normally was no effort for him at all. He hit the number on speed dial.  
  
"We're at the hotel," Sören rasped.  
  
"Good."  
  
"Thank you for making sure we got hydrated."  
  
"No need to thank me. I spent a lot of time in the Middle East, it's second nature to me now to make sure everyone has enough fluid."  
  
Sören found that curious, but he knew pressing an intelligence operative about his time over there was probably a no-go. "OK. I'm dead on my feet so if there's anything else..."  
  
"No, there's not. Well, there is one thing... If there are complications from the heat, if anyone needs medical treatment, let me know. We have a doctor who can get out to you."  
  
 _Oh god, I don't need to fucking worry about that right now._ "OK."  
  
"I'll see you in a few days."  
  
"So you'll actually be meeting us?"  
  
"Yes. In Sydney."  
  
Sören felt like a dumbass again. He also felt a little pre-emptively shy, wondering what the man with the sexy voice looked like. "Do I need to call you when our driver gets here Sunday, er, Monday -" There it was, the disorientation of having crossed the International Date Line.  
  
"No, she'll be in touch with a mutual contact to relay details to me. Only call if there's an emergency, I'm going to be very busy getting everything set up here."  
  
"OK." Now Sören said it. "Thank you, very much."  
  
"You're welcome." A pause. "Rest well."  
  
"You too, when you get there."  
  
Sören put the satellite phone down and closed his eyes. He drifted off, and after some time Dooku stirred him awake. "Food's here," Dooku said.  
  
"Not hungry," Sören mumbled; he still had no appetite. He wanted to sleep forever.  
  
" _You will eat._ " Dooku nudged Sören with the Force and when Sören snapped awake, Dooku gave him a stern look.  
  
One of them had called for grilled cheese, Sören's favorite - right down to it being Swiss on rye - in the hopes that it would tempt him to eat and get his strength back a little. There was a garden salad, and assorted finger foods like chicken salad wraps, even sushi. Sören managed to eat a bit of this and that and, after more Gatorade, he checked on the girls. They were going to need a bath. He brought them into the bathroom to wash them; Maglor helped. When they were clean and dry and in new diapers, Sören put them in their second change of summer dresses, and back in their cribs, taking a few moments to tiredly admire how sweet and precious they looked.  
  
Then Sören got in the shower himself, and after a moment Dooku got in the shower with him. They hadn't had sex in a week, and they were both too worn out now to do anything but hold each other naked under the spray. Yet this too was intimacy, a much-needed moment of peace and comfort.  
  
"Everything will be all right, darling." Dooku kissed Sören's forehead and rocked him.  
  
Sören sobbed a little. "No it won't."  
  
"Yes it will." Dooku cupped Sören's chin in his hand, stroking Sören's beard with his thumb, and looked into his eyes - firm yet tender all at once. "We have each other. After all that was done to us, after the way they tried to keep us apart..." Dooku pulled Sören close. "They couldn't. Our love was stronger than that. We will get through anything so long as we have each other. And I know you'll miss Iceland. But I am determined to work for the best life we can have in Sydney, while we're there."  
  
It wasn't just Iceland that Sören missed. Dag was on his mind again as he crawled into bed, slipping between the cool, clean, high-thread-count silk sheets. And Finrod's father, Finarfin. He had Amrod and Amras again, but where was everyone else?  
  
"Sleep, my love." Dooku gave Sören a little kiss, and Sören snuggled into his chest, nuzzling the chest hair.  
  
 _At least there's Fingolfin._ Sören would never take his love for granted, after everything.  
  
  
_  
  
  
Despite being checked into a five-star resort, Sören didn't really get to enjoy all of the luxury it had to offer. Rather than spending time in the jacuzzi or the pool on Sunday, Sören slept most of the day, jetlagged, sore, and completely and utterly bone-tired, soul-tired. He woke up only to take care of the girls and eat, and continue replenishing the fluids that he'd lost on Saturday.  
  
At last in the late evening Maglor was doing laundry and Sören accompanied him, stretching his legs for a bit. After pacing around, Sören took a seat, and Maglor stood behind Sören and began to knead the tension out of his shoulders. Sören melted into his touch. "Mmmm, that's nice," Sören husked.  
  
Back in the hotel suite, Maglor finished what he started, rubbing Sören's back. Sören's cock woke up, and when Sören rolled over he and Maglor kissed, and Sören moaned at the feel of Maglor's hard cock pressed against his. Even a week had been too long.  
  
Sören paused the feverish kisses and caresses, stealing a nervous glance over at the cribs several feet away.  
  
"They're all the way over there and they're sleeping," Maglor said. "If we keep it down and we pull up the sheet..."  
  
Dooku joined in, taking turns kissing both of them, his hands sliding over Sören and Maglor as they explored him and each other. Sören still felt a little awkward about it, but not enough to refuse - he was too sexually frustrated, too horny, too needy for them, taking what comfort they could from each other in the chaos. But they were too tired still for anything strenuous, so with the sheet over them they got into a position to put their three cocks together and rubbed, stroking, continuing to take turns kissing, free hands roaming. As pent up as they were it took only a few minutes to climax, and the orgasm did Sören a world of good, smiling as the release throbbed through his body, taking him far away from his troubles, into light, into love.  
  
Snuggling between the two of them, Sören whispered, "I love you."  
  
"We love you too." Maglor kissed the tip of Sören's nose, then stole a sweet, lingering kiss.  
  
Then Sören glanced at the sleeping babies again, and he realized he felt awkward for another reason. "So, uh, you guys." Sören pursed his lips. "I'm not ashamed of what we were, what we are to each other, but I think that it's probably a good idea to, ah, not mention the incest thing around the kids." Sören looked at Dooku and said, "Or to let them hear if I call you Daddy or Pabbi."  
  
"Yes, as you know there is a difference between roleplay and real life," Dooku said, stroking Sören's cheek, "and quite a difference between Elves and humans. What was OK for us as Elves..."  
  
"Exactly. I don't want to, you know. Fuck their heads up." Sören swallowed hard - he already felt like he was failing as a parent coming out the gate without that. "I mean... there's a non-zero chance they're going to find out who they were in a past life, like we did, and when they're old enough, then knowing that Ada and their uncle and one of their brothers had a special relationship, and this doesn't apply to them, is less of an issue. Maybe. Hopefully. But while they're still kids, let's not discuss it around them..."  
  
"That's understandable." Maglor patted Sören's shoulder. "And for what it's worth, I agree with that decision."  
  
"So do I," Dooku said.  
  
"I didn't think you wouldn't. I mean, it probably didn't even need to be said," Sören said. "But I still felt it was, ah, necessary." Sören ran a nervous hand through his curls and rubbed his beard. "We're already going to have a hard enough time with those kids, I think."  
  
"Especially with them being Amrod and Amras." Maglor rolled his eyes. "Back then, I guess fate gave you the troll children last when you'd already had practice with Maedhros and Celegorm -"  
  
"Like you weren't a handful yourself," Sören said, giving Maglor a pointed look.  
  
Maglor batted his eyelashes and gave Sören an innocent face that wasn't innocent at all. "Me? A brat? Would I _ever._ "  
  
"You're my kid," Sören said. "What do you think."  
  
Dooku snorted. "At least mine were well-behaved..."  
  
Now it was Maglor's turn to snort. "That's what they wanted you to think. Fingon was a little shit too, just saying."  
  
"Everyone in this family is a shit," Sören said. "Period. End of story."  
  
"I beg your pardon," Dooku said.  
  
"Especially you, Ñolofinwë."  
  
"I am not a shit."  
  
Sören couldn't resist. "Right, my bad, you're a twat."  
  
"As you know, Fëanáro, you're a dick -"  
  
Maglor shook with silent laughter. "You worry about screwing up the kids or setting a bad example... and then you call each other those names."  
  
"We're in Australia now, they're going to hear worse," Dooku said. "Frankie would feel right at home with the use of the c-word, from everything I hear about Australian culture."  
  
Sören sighed, missing Frankie now too. He wondered if Margrét, Frankie and Coldagnir had dealt with the Feds in Reykjavik. He pushed that thought out of his head and looked back at the babies. "Well, Amrod and Amras got to go first this time, at least... of the ones I'm raising." As soon as those words came out of his mouth Sören found that curious, and probably the embarrassing product of an exhaustion-addled mind, as the phrasing implied there would be more children, and Sören thought there was no way he'd ever become a biological parent. "I dunno, do you think any of the others were already reborn?"  
  
"It's more than likely," Maglor said, nodding. "And with any luck, we'll find them. But for now, we've got the Ambarussa back, and... we've probably got our work cut out for us."  
  
"Yeah. We've got our work cut out for us with... a lot." Sören made noises.  
  
Maglor and Dooku patted him. "One step at a time," Maglor said. "Let's worry about getting to Sydney first... then everything else we'll take step by step."  
  
"And right now, our next step should be sleep." Dooku pet Sören's curls.  
  
  
_  
  
  
They were woken up by the satellite phone the next morning. "Hello," Sören growled, irritated at being woken up.  
  
"This is Anthony. Your driver will be there in an hour."  
  
They got ready, with Sören still scowling at his reflection in the mirror as he brushed his teeth. In the lobby Sören paced - after getting much-needed rest yesterday now all his nervous energy came surging back.  
  
Winter in the Northern Hemisphere was a popular time for Australian tourism and they weren't alone at the resort; Sören people-watched, feeling more and more nervous with each person checking out or in, wondering how far the news of Dag's disappearance had broken and if he would be recognized as the missing scientist's brother, or, worse, if they had somehow been tailed by anyone in another agency or any of the people who were responsible for his brother's disappearance. Sören hated feeling this paranoid, and wondered if there was ever going to be a time when he'd feel less paranoid and something approximating "normal". He worried that he'd screw the girls up if he was like this long term.  
  
If Dag wasn't found soon, and he had them long term. Which with each passing day felt more and more the case.  
  
It was great to have Amrod and Amras back, and Fingolfin and Maglor... and to know Findis and Lalwen were around... but everyone else felt so impossibly far. The family reunion felt more and more like a lost cause...  
  
Most of the people who had been coming in and out of the hotel were white, like he was, but now there was a black woman coming in by herself. Sören tried not to stare, not wanting to be rude, but he was an artist and she was absolutely gorgeous. Sable brown skin, tall - she was as tall as Sören. She wore the same Doc Martens boots that both Sören and Maglor had on. She had shapely legs, in khaki cargo shorts, and her curves were nicely hugged by a light green camisole under an open white button-down short-sleeved shirt. Her arms had some definition that suggested she worked out or was otherwise very physically active. She had on aviator sunglasses, and wore her hair in long dreadlocks pulled in a high ponytail. She had thick eyebrows, high cheekbones and full lips, her facial expression defaulting to what looked like anger or annoyance, and a proud, regal walk to match - she commanded the lobby when she entered. Her head moved, suggesting she was glancing around the lobby before she walked up to the desk.  
  
"I'll be with you in just a moment," the concierge said before ducking out.  
  
The woman stood there for a few seconds, again glancing around the lobby, and then she came over to them. She stooped to reach out to Huan. "G'day. Nice dog," she said, in a deep, smoky voice with an Australian accent. She let Huan sniff her. "Can I pet him?"  
  
"Yeah, go ahead," Maglor said.  
  
She pet the dog for a moment - Huan gave her a few affectionate licks - and then she lowered her voice and asked, "What is the ultimate answer to Life, the Universe, and Everything?"  
  
"Forty-two," Sören said.  
  
The woman pulled up her sunglasses. She had grey eyes. She was already gorgeous to Sören but her eyes were startlingly beautiful. They also suggested she was mixed-race, but Sören thought it was probably rude to be too curious.  
  
He wanted to draw or paint her.  
  
"Right," the woman said, looking at each of them as if to size them up. "Come along."  
  
There was a shipping truck in the parking lot of the resort. Sören swallowed hard, remembering news reports of people being trafficked in vehicles just like this, people dying when being trafficked in vehicles like this. He knew that MI6 wasn't setting them up to be trafficked, and he didn't get any danger vibes from this woman, but it still unnerved him. And then he saw the logo on the other side of the truck, for Apollyon Enterprises. Sören restrained the urge to laugh out loud.  
  
They weren't going into the back shipping compartment, but the cab, which was decked out like the inside of an RV with a seating area, a flat-screen TV, a little bookshelf with magazines and a few books, near a station with a mini-fridge and freezer and a microwave next to a small countertop, with a cupboard above the countertop, and farther back there were two bunk beds for four sleeping areas total, and a bathroom with not just a toilet but a shower and a baby-changing station.  
  
 _Leave it to Van to make sure his company's truck drivers travel in relative comfort,_ Sören thought to himself.  
  
"Right, so." The woman folded her arms. "This is the deal. I will be driving all day today, tomorrow, and Wednesday... we will be in Sydney on Wednesday night. I am under strict protocol not to give you my real name, or to know your real names, for our mutual safety. I will be dropping you off at a safe house in Sydney where you'll be spending Wednesday overnight before another person takes you to wherever it is you're going on Thursday - again, for our mutual safety I don't need or want to know your business in Sydney. Nonetheless, we will have to do some communication back and forth, so let's start with what to call each other. You can call me Nina -"  
  
"Not your real name," Sören said.  
  
"No. And I'll call you..." She glanced at each of them. "Moe," she said to Dooku. "Larry," she said to Maglor. "And Curly," she said to Sören.  
  
Dooku and Maglor both glared, while Sören tried not to laugh. His eyes met "Nina's" and she seemed just as amused as he was.  
  
Nina went on. "We'll be sleeping in the cab, since this is a low-profile assignment." She gave them a wary look. "I'll be making rest stops every day so we can stretch our legs, you can take the dog out to piss. And we'll be grabbing food now and again - nothing fancy, since we're on a timetable, I hope you can deal with the drive-thru of Maccas at least once or twice."  
  
"Maccas?" Sören gave Maglor a pointed look, again trying not to laugh. _First Larry, now Maccas..._ He had a feeling it wasn't intentional but it felt like Maglor was being trolled somehow just the same.  
  
"McDonald's," Nina said without humor.  
  
Sören could deal with that, albeit McDonald's hadn't existed in Iceland since the financial crisis years ago, but he could see Dooku and Maglor cringing.  
  
"There's cold drinks and some snacks in the fridge and freezer, and snacks in the cupboard..." Nina looked around the cab, then at them. "If you have any questions, now's the time to ask."  
  
"I think we're good," Maglor said, looking at Sören and Dooku, then back at Nina.  
  
"OK then." Nina got in the driver's seat while Sören, Dooku and Maglor settled in the seating area of the cab, where they had the choice of watching something on the flat-screen TV or looking out the window, which would provide a nice view of where they were going. Nina looked over her shoulder then. "Oh, there is one more thing. I need music on when I drive. Don't bitch at me about my music."  
  
With that, she put on the stereo and a few seconds later, "Sad But True" by Metallica started playing.  
  
"I don't think you'll get any complaints from us," Dooku said, chuckling.  
  
"Right on," Nina said and threw the horns; Dooku and Maglor threw them back.  
  
Nina laughed - she flashed her first smile, beautiful, lighting up her entire face; Sören couldn't help smiling back. Then she put her sunglasses back over her eyes and started the ignition. "Let's rock."


	32. In A Big Country

**In A Big Country**

  
  
  
In contrast to the second round of their cross-country trek through Canada, the journey from Alice Springs to Sydney was far less fraught. Some of it was that Sören was too exhausted emotionally and physically to spin his gears the way he had coming from Thunder Bay to Fort Smith. He still had moments of worry and outright panic about his goddaughters, his missing brother, and whatever the future held in store for them; he still had moments of sorrow, aching for his brother, all the regrets and what-could-have-beens about keeping in better touch, seeing him more often. But he was forcing himself to try to "tune out" now, because he knew he did no one any favors when he was constantly upset, especially not the girls, who were fussy enough without empathically reacting to his mood.  
  
Strangely enough, Nina's presence seemed to help, even though she was on protocol to not speak with her passengers unless it was absolutely necessary - not simply so she could focus on driving across Australia, but also because whoever instated the protcol seemed to think the less they knew about each other, the safer they'd all be. But she was pleasant enough, if a bit terse, when she did have to interact with them. And knowing that she was a relatively safe outsider - not what Sören had started to think of as Schrodinger's Norse God or Schrodinger's Government Agent - helped as well. And even though she didn't speak much, there was nonetheless something strong and comforting about her energy.  
  
Dooku and Maglor read, or watched movies on the flat-screen TV. Sören looked out the window at the gorgeous view of the Australian outback rolling by - though he also quipped, "I feel like my life has turned into _Mad Max_." He was grateful for the rest stops not just to stretch his legs, but to be able to look around - even in pockets of civilization, there was still wildness all around them; it was like nothing Sören had ever seen before, and it captivated him.  
  
He had a moment of wonder on Tuesday afternoon when Nina stopped to get petrol and they got out of the truck, and Sören saw a mob of kangaroos hopping several meters away, across the road. Sören squeaked, and then he tried to not make a scene, not wanting to scare them off. Nina watched him watching the kangaroos and she couldn't help but laugh, her eyes crinkling at the corners as her smile lit up her face again. She was amused enough to finally break protocol to a point and interact.  
  
"That your first kanga sighting, mate?" Nina asked.  
  
Sören nodded. "I've never been to Australia before." His eyes widened. "You've seen them, I take it?"  
  
" _God._ " Nina chuckled. "They're all over the place. I used to give outback tours, years ago, people would lose their shit over seeing kangas like it was the most rare thing in the world and not realize they visit my backyard, they're kind of a pest actually."  
  
"Awwwww? But they're so cute."  
  
"They are cute. Cute arseholes."  
  
Sören couldn't help laughing at that. Nina laughed too.  
  
"Do you live in the outback? Er, sorry, I shouldn't be asking that, with the rules," Sören said, feeling sheepish.  
  
"You shouldn't, but, I suppose it can't hurt much - I don't live in the outback... now. I grew up on a sheep farm, though, in the outback, so I have some familiarity. But kangas are all over Australia, not just the outback." Nina watched the kangaroos continue to hop along. "You'll see enough of them in Sydney, prolly. Might even get sick of them."  
  
"I can't imagine ever getting sick of them," Sören said, continuing to stare after the kangaroos with awe.  
  
Growing up on a sheep farm explained why Nina had the kind of body that suggested she was active. Sören was very curious about her, but when they got back in the truck he decided not to pry, staying on the right side of the protocol.  
  
But he ended up drawing the kangaroos... and her. He found himself drawing Nina riding a kangaroo like she was going off to war, both she and the kangaroo clad in armor. It was a cute, fun little doodle, something that made Sören smile as he sketched. He thought about giving it to her to say "thank you" for driving them, even though he knew this was a job she was hired to do and getting paid for, he still felt grateful to her.  
  
Yet, he also felt self-conscious, since she'd said the kangaroos were pests, and Sören didn't know if she'd think it was creepy that he drew her - let alone that he wanted to do more serious drawing of her, even paint her - or if she'd even like the drawing, if she'd find it lame. Maglor smiled when he looked across at the sketchbook, and Sören's face burned. He quickly flipped his sketchbook to a fresh sheet to work on something else.  
  
He had brought his old sketchbooks with him on the trip, and even though he had a sketchbook that was relatively new, bought months ago, before the Dagorath, that had more room, clean papers for drawing, he was using the last few sheets of one of his oldest sketchbooks - drawings dating all the way back to 2007, 2008... as well as some from 2009, when he and Maglor had first met and fallen in love. Having attracted Maglor's notice now, he flipped to some of those older pictures, like a sketch of Maglor sleeping, a sketch of Maglor playing guitar, a decidedly not-safe-for-work sketch of Sören and Maglor making love. Maglor took Sören's hand and stroked it, and leaned over to give him a sweet, lingering kiss. They couldn't have sex in the truck, so they had to keep it somewhat chaste to avoid getting too frustrated, nonetheless it was a tender moment that made Sören melt, and he put aside his sketchbook for awhile and snuggled with Maglor.  
  
Later, Sören sketched that moment, the two of them curled up together, a much-needed moment of peace. It started as a regular black-and-white sketch - he'd color it in maybe another time - but there was a lot of detail, as his work tended to have, wanting to make it look realistic. Just as he was adding the finishing touches, Kate began squalling, and a minute later Tori did too.  
  
Kate needed changing, and then after he changed Kate, Tori peed and needed changing as well. After changing them they continued to fuss, which wasn't entirely unusual, but they were fussing for longer than usual, and Sören got the distinct sense that they somehow knew they weren't home yet and they really, _really_ wanted to go home. Sören tried to calm them down but it wasn't working.  
  
Maglor tended to calm them down when Sören couldn't. As he and Sören rocked the girls, Maglor asked Nina, "Can you turn off the music for a few minutes? I need to sing to these kids."  
  
Nina nodded - she knew Maglor wasn't complaining about her music, just needed it off briefly.  
  
 _Lullaby and goodnight, with roses bedight  
With lilies o'er spread is baby's wee bed  
Lay thee down now and rest, may thy slumber be blessed  
Lay thee down now and rest, may thy slumber be blessed_  
  
They continued to cry, when normally that song would do the trick. Maglor frowned and then after a minute he tried something else.  
  
 _Twinkle, twinkle, little star  
How I wonder what you are  
Up above the world so high  
Like a diamond in the sky  
Twinkle, twinkle little star  
How I wonder what you are  
  
When the blazing sun is gone  
When he nothing shines upon  
Then you show your little light  
Twinkle, twinkle, all the night  
Twinkle, twinkle, little star  
How I wonder what you are _  
  
The girls were still making a racket. "Shit," Sören said, feeling panic, hoping nothing was seriously wrong to make them cry like this.  
  
Nina pulled over. She was scowling now, and Sören worried that she was angry with them - for the briefest instant Sören feared she was going to kick them out for being annoying and leave them stranded. But the scowl turned out to be one of concern because then Nina said, "Here, let me try." She made the "give it" gesture and Sören passed over Kate, and then Nina gestured again.  
  
"Both of them," she said.  
  
Sören was impressed she could hold both of them at the same time, since although they weren't quite toddlers they weren't newborns anymore, they were big, unwieldy babies. He handed over Tori.  
  
Nina put Tori down on the passenger's seat for a moment, turned the stereo back on, pressed a few buttons, and then "Nothing Else Matters" by Metallica came on. Nina picked Tori back up and rocked the twins together, singing in a husky, bluesy contralto.  
  
 _So close no matter how far  
Couldn't be much more from the heart  
Forever trusting who we are  
And nothing else matters  
  
Never opened myself this way  
Life is ours, we live it our way  
All these words I don't just say  
And nothing else matters  
  
Trust I seek and I find in you  
Every day for us something new  
Open mind for a different view  
And nothing else matters  
_  
  
The girls started to calm down. Maglor smiled and his tenor joined her on the chorus, singing harmony:  
  
 _Never cared for what they do  
Never cared for what they know  
But I know_  
  
They sang together through the end, and the babies were calm. For good measure, Nina put on another song to sing to them, this one by Skid Row:  
  
 _Woke up to the sound of pouring rain  
The wind would whisper and I'd think of you  
And all the tears you cried – they called my name  
And when you needed me I came through  
  
Paint a picture of the days gone by  
When love went blind and you would make me see  
I'd stare a lifetime into your eyes  
So that I knew that you were there for me  
Time after time you were there for me_  
  
Maglor once again sang with Nina on the chorus:  
  
 _Remember yesterday - walking hand in hand  
Love letters in the sands - I remember you  
And through the sleepless nights, through every endless day  
I wanna hear you say, "I remember you."_  
  
When the song was over, Nina put them back in their pram and Sören and Maglor tucked them back in, taking a moment to admire the precious sweetness of the babies. _Our kids,_ Sören thought to himself, taking Maglor's hand.  
  
They sat back down. "That was quite a performance," Dooku said.  
  
Nina took a little bow.  
  
"Yeah, how the hell did you get them to calm down with that?" Sören asked. "And hold both of them."  
  
"I have twins," Nina said. "I used to sing them all kinds of metal to get them to sleep. Including 'Enter Sandman', which probably is kind of creepy for a lullaby, but it worked."  
  
Sören tried not to laugh too hard, not wanting to wake the girls up. Maglor grinned. "Aren't you a bit young to know so much about hair metal?" Maglor asked.  
  
"I'm twenty-seven," Nina said. "So yeh, it was a bit past my time - that's my da's music, he raised me on that."  
  
"Thanks," Maglor muttered under his breath. "I don't feel like an old geezer or anything..."  
  
 _Newsflash: you are an old geezer,_ Sören spoke into his mind.  
  
"Hair metal," Nina went on, "and Viking metal." She laughed as she pulled back on the road.  
  
Nina got more interesting all the time. "So twins, huh?" Sören asked.  
  
Nina nodded solemnly. "They're back at home with their dad. They know Mummy has to go away every once in awhile, this is my job." She glanced over at Sören, then back at the road. "Right then, let's be on our way."  
  
"Uh... thank you." Sören couldn't believe the girls had quieted down from that.  
  
"Yes, thank you very much," Maglor said, and then he added, "You've got a great voice," sincerely.  
  
Nina smiled over her shoulder. "Thanks, so do you. My god, you could be on one of those idol shows."  
  
Maglor laughed. "Not likely."  
  
  
_  
  
  
On Wednesday, Sören felt restless, knowing they'd be in Sydney by evening, and then the following evening they'd be in their new house. He watched the Australian landscape out the window again, continuing to be mesmerized by its wild beauty. He once again felt inspired to sketch, this time sketching the outback, and he found himself sketching Nina again, a more serious sketch than before. He remembered her mentioning that she used to give outback tours - he wondered why that was "used to", in the past tense - and it seemed that in the sketch she was searching for something, looking out into the distance.  
  
Their afternoon rest stop was in another scenic area. "Almost there," Nina said as they got out of the truck - everything was more green here than it had been in the outback. Sören was practicing trying to hold the girls at the same time, and walk around with them. "Ma-ma," Kate babbled, poking Sören. "Ma-ma. Ma-ma."  
  
Sören laughed and kissed Kate's cheek. "Oh god."  
  
There were more kangaroos. Sören gasped and Kate and Tori's little faces lit up. The girls began to wriggle and bounce in his arms, making nonsense sounds, smiling at the kangaroo family hopping meters away. "Yes, those are kangaroos," Sören said, and made a mental note to get them a stuffed kangaroo as soon as possible. "You like kangas?"  
  
"Ka-ka," Tori said.  
  
Nina snorted, and came over to tousle Tori's hair. "Yes, they make lots of ca-ca," Nina said, and now Sören snorted too.  
  
"Do they really?"  
  
"Yeh, I told you they were pests. Cleaning kangaroo shit out of my yard is an experience." Nina made a face.  
  
Sören's laughter rang out - he couldn't help it - but Nina laughed too and patted his shoulder. Sören really wished they could be friends, Nina seemed like the kind of person he'd love to go have a beer with.  
  
"Roo," Tori said, but she was looking at Nina as she said it. "Roo! Roo!"  
  
"Ma-ma," Kate said, poking Sören again. Then she grabbed onto one of Nina's dreadlocks and said, "May. May may may."  
  
"Oh shit, I'm sorry," Sören said, gently prying Nina's lock from Kate's hand.  
  
"No, yer good, mate," Nina said. "My babies used to grab my hair a lot when they were that age. They'd eat it, too." She rolled her eyes and chuckled.  
  
Kate grabbed a lock again and then Tori did too, and Nina just let them, smiling fondly. "May may may," Kate cooed, tugging on the lock, working it up and down. "May may may may may."  
  
"Ya ya ya," Tori said, also tugging on Nina's lock. "Ya ya ya."  
  
"O-ookay." Sören knew Nina had said it was fine, but he didn't want to overstep bounds. He once again gently removed the girls' hands from Nina's hair.  
  
Back in the truck Nina put on 80s music, as a change from the metal of the last few days. "My da listened to that too," she said, "though he'd ground me for life if I went around telling people he secretly likes Duran Duran." She sang along:  
  
 _Dark in the city, night is a wire  
Steam in the subway, earth is afire  
Do do do do do do do dodo dododo dodo  
  
Woman, you want me, give me a sign  
And catch my breathing even closer behind  
Do do do do do do do dodo dododo dodo  
  
In touch with the ground  
I'm on the hunt down, I'm after you  
Smell like I sound, I'm lost in a crowd  
And I'm hungry like the wolf  
_  
  
Sören fed the girls, and then rocked them for a bit to help them digest. When they were back in their pram, Maglor and Dooku entertained them - they had made puppets out of socks for lack of things to do on the trip. Sören watched, laughing, as he had his sketchbook out again, sketching the scene playing out before him, wanting to preserve the adorable memory.  
  
Then he snapped to attention when he saw the sign for the city limits of Sydney. He put his sketchbook off to the side, completely focused on drinking in every sight of the magnificent sunset over the hills and valley, as if the land were welcoming them home. And the perfect song came on the stereo:  
  
 _I've never seen you look like this without a reason  
Another promise fallen through, another season passes by you  
  
I never took the smile away from anybody's face  
And that's a desperate way to look for someone who is still a child  
  
In a big country, dreams stay with you  
Like a lover's voice fires the mountainside  
Stay alive  
  
I thought that pain and truth were things that really mattered  
But you can't stay here with every single hope you had shattered_  
  
Sören teared up, chills raising gooseflesh on his arms. He'd felt so hopeless - indeed, like every single hope of his was shattered in a matter of weeks. Maybe Australia was a fresh start they needed.  
  
 _I'm not expecting to grow flowers in a desert  
But I can live and breathe and see the sun in wintertime  
  
In a big country, dreams stay with you  
Like a lover's voice fires the mountainside  
Stay alive  
  
In a big country, dreams stay with you  
Like a lover's voice fires the mountainside  
Stay alive  
  
So take that look out of here, it doesn't fit you  
Because it's happened doesn't mean you've been discarded  
Pull up your head off the floor, come up screaming  
Cry out for everything you ever might have wanted  
I thought that pain and truth were things that really mattered  
But you can't stay here with every single hope you had shattered_  
  
Sören swallowed hard. His eyes met Maglor's.  
  
 _I'm not expecting to grow flowers in a desert  
But I can live and breathe and see the sun in wintertime  
  
In a big country, dreams stay with you  
Like a lover's voice fires the mountainside  
Stay alive_  
  
The safe house where they would be spending the night turned out to be a warehouse for Apollyon Enterprises. Sören wondered if Van knew they were in Sydney, or if Van was even in this universe at all, if he hadn't fucked off somewhere else. As the rest of his hopes had been shattered over the last two months, Sören didn't think he'd ever see Van again. He sighed as he got out of the truck.  
  
Nina helped them unload their things, and at last Sören, Maglor, Dooku, Huan and the girls were outside the warehouse with their belongings. Nina lingered for a moment.  
  
"Well, it's been a pleasure." Dooku was ever the gentleman.  
  
Nina shook his hand, and Dooku kissed it old-world style, making her laugh. Then Maglor also shook her hand, and Sören. Sören fought the urge to hug her, not knowing if that would be unwelcome, not wanting her to feel unsafe. He knew it had probably been tense enough for her to transport three men, even if they had babies and a dog.  
  
"Thank you so much for driving us," Sören said. "I hope we weren't too much trouble."  
  
"Nah, you guys were fine." Nina waved to Kate and Tori in their pram. "You be good for your dads..." She snickered at Sören. "And your mama, OK?"  
  
"Have a safe journey back to wherever it is you're going," Sören said.  
  
Nina nodded. "You guys be safe too. I hope that Sydney treats you well while you're here."  
  
With that, she was gone - Sören watched as she got in her truck, and watched as she began to pull out, then Maglor and Dooku nudged him, as there was a uniform-wearing employee gesturing for them to come inside.  
  
As it happened the warehouse had a suite not dissimilar to a hotel room with a couch, a bed, a TV, a kitchen area, and a bathroom. There was also a washer-dryer unit, which Sören was relieved to see because they didn't have many changes of summer clothing. After rummaging around for something to eat, Sören and Maglor bathed the girls, then the adults took turns showering, and they started a load of laundry, half-watching Australian television. When their laundry was done, Sören, Maglor and Dooku settled down for the night, Sören laying between them in the bed, and though anticipation of starting their new life in Sydney tomorrow would have kept him awake any other time, the last few nights of sleeping in a cramped bunk caught up with him and he fell asleep quickly.  
  
Which was just as well, because a buzzer woke them up at eight AM on the morning of Thursday the tenth. A female voice with an Australian accent announced over an intercom, "Please report to room 2B at nine AM."  
  
The girls were changed and fed, they got dressed, and made their way down to room 2B, which was on the other end of the building and felt like an endless walk past different storage rooms and offices. Sören's heart raced, feeling slightly apprehensive about whatever it was that was going to happen.  
  
Room 2B was like a typical office, with chairs along the walls, and a desk. The man waiting for them in the room was sitting behind and slightly away from the desk in a leather swivel chair. On the desk there was coffee, fruit and pastries, which was good because Sören needed more caffeine and he was a bit hungry.  
  
The man in the room looked to be mid-to-late thirties, possibly a bit older. He had short, neatly combed and gelled black hair that was showing the first threads of grey. Long-lashed green eyes - _pretty eyes,_ Sören thought to himself. The man was a bit too pale for the Australian summer. Handsome - very handsome in a classic "leading man" sort of way, chiseled features, generous mouth, clean-shaven. He had a trim build, and was dressed in a black tie, white shirt rolled up at the sleeves in the summer heat, black vest, black trousers. Professional-looking without being _too_ formal. The sort of man that Sören would cast in a James Bond movie as Bond if he were the one doing the casting.  
  
The man just stared at them for a moment, and Sören felt a touch of annoyance - not just being kept waiting, as the sooner whatever this was got done and over with the sooner they could _go home_ , but annoyance as much at himself for staring right back at the eye candy, feeling kind of like he was being a pervert for ogling a random stranger but he couldn't help it. _Oh shit, he's hot,_ Sören thought to himself, heat flooding through him. Then Sören smacked himself mentally. _Get a damn hold of yourself._  
  
"Jæja?"  
  
"Ah. Yes." The man rose to meet them and Sören saw he was slightly taller - six-two if Sören had to guess. He walked over, and put out his hand. "Sören Sigurdsson... welcome to Australia."  
  
That was the Benedict Cumberbatch soundalike. He didn't look a thing like Cumberbatch. Sören's heart skipped a beat. "Oh, you're..."  
  
"Anthony Wyatt-Jones." He shook Maglor's and Dooku's hands as well. Huan barked in greeting.  
  
Anthony leaned back, sitting on the edge of the desk instead of back at his chair. "I know you've had a terribly long journey, and you just want to get to your new home. But before I bring you there, I need to touch base with you about a few things first."  
  
 _You can touch my base all you want._ Sören would have kicked himself if he could, feeling embarrassed. Sören, Maglor and Dooku took seats.  
  
Before Anthony could go on, Sören blurted out the other thing that was on his mind. "Have you guys found my brother?"  
  
"Not yet," Anthony said with an apologetic look.  
  
"Or found out who took him?"  
  
"We don't know that either." Anthony sighed. "The Canadians are claiming they don't know anything - in fact, they're looking for him too. And the Americans, of course, are claiming that they don't have him. Which doesn't mean they don't... but doesn't mean they do, either. We're doing what we can to find him and as soon as we find out something... you will be notified."  
  
Sören nodded, but he felt like crying now. It seemed like the longer this went on, the more slim the chances that Dag would be found - whoever took him could clean up the trail.  
  
"In the meantime," Anthony said, "as of now, Sören Sigurdsson, Alejandro Magalhães, and Nicolae Dooku, you no longer exist. However, you are not stateless persons." He got up, went around to his desk, and opened a drawer. He produced three large manila envelopes, one for each of them, and there was a smaller envelope that Sören opened and saw fake documentation for Kate and Tori Lauer - listing Stefan Kierkegaard as the father on the birth certificate. Sören's mouth went dry. He opened his envelope and found a marriage certificate between Stefan Kierkegaard and Marcus Lauer. Sören and Maglor looked at each other, then back at Anthony, who came back round to sit on the desk.  
  
"I have you listed as the girls' father in the event there is ever any medical procedures that require something from a blood relative - for example, bone marrow." At Sören's look of alarm Anthony put up a hand. "I hope, as well as you do, that it's never necessary. But it's better to be prepared than not. And as far as the marriage certificate, please pardon me for being presumptuous, as I understand you and Nicolae were the ones who were married -" Anthony looked at Dooku, then back at Sören. "But in your new life here, we are endeavoring to keep you looking as 'normal' as possible without forcing you back into the closet. It raises less eyebrows with the public for two people who look near a similar age to be married, than with an age gap..." Anthony's voice trailed off at the stern look Dooku gave him and Anthony gave another apologetic look. "I'm sorry. It's not a personal judgment on my part. Again, this is to err on the side of caution."  
  
"I understand," Sören said. He never had a problem with Dooku being old enough to be his father, but they'd gotten some comments about it over the years.  
  
"Which leads me to the next point of business: I am of the understanding none of the three of you age anymore, in addition to having special abilities. We know that Alejandro Magalhães aka Mark Lowry has done a fair amount of moving around because of this. I would like to suggest that you spend a bit longer than your usual shelf life of seven to ten years here in Australia - long enough to ensure your daughters get an education here that is uninterrupted. Small vacations are fine, if you let us know where you're going - a few days, few weeks, even a month or two on holiday - but until the girls are grown, we'd like to strongly encourage you to make Australia your home."  
  
"You're suggesting we stay here close to twenty years, then," Maglor said.  
  
Anthony nodded. "It honestly isn't so out of the ordinary now for someone who looks to be in their thirties to actually be closer to fifty, and with Nicolae - Nicolaas, now - you look good for your age, and your new documentation has you as a bit younger than you actually are."  
  
Dooku blushed. Sören felt a touch of amusement at Anthony saying Dooku looked good for his age, and Anthony's cheeks were also slightly pink. Dooku looked a bit flustered now, intensifying Sören's amusement, and then Sören's eyes met Anthony's and Sören felt that stupid fluttery, horny feeling again that he wished would go away.  
  
"And if you're worried about the potential for suspicion," Anthony went on, "I will remind you that you're under our watch and we can help you if you're in a tight spot. It's also easier for us to help you here than it would be if you went off to parts unknown, since Australia is a Commonwealth country... you're still under the Queen's protection."  
  
"And that worked so well for my brother in Canada," Sören said bitterly, before he could stop himself.  
  
Anthony tried to keep his expression neutral, but Sören watched his brow furrow slightly. "Yes, well... as we told you, he exposed his abilities in public. And a big part of why we had to make you disappear was for similar reasons - Charlie only just now is getting back from the situation that blew up in Iceland. And that leads me to the final, and perhaps most important part of our conversation. You know you are going to have to keep a low profile. You _cannot_ risk exposing yourself again. And I'll be blunt with you, Charlie is... not amused. She warned you back in September that if there was another incident with exposure, she was going to assign you a babysitter. She really did mean that, and we are currently in talks about it, but one of us is going to end up assigned to you."  
  
"When you say babysitter, do you mean, like... living with us?" Sören cringed.  
  
"Not necessarily - though that's on the table if it happens again. But certainly, someone to monitor everything more carefully and do regular check-ins. Charlie and I and the team are still discussing it. It may be Charlie herself, it may be somebody else..."  
  
"OH god." The thought of having Charlie up their ass... Sören cringed again.  
  
"But for now... in addition to identification documents and cards, enclosed you will find bank cards, credit cards, and information about your accounts, as well as paper trails that will help with schooling and employment should you pursue it. I would recommend being self-employed if at all possible, but I leave that up to your judgment. The only thing I can ask of you is that you don't do anything with yourselves that would cause a lot of attention. So, Mark... Marcus... if you wanted to play music, for example, you could do that at local clubs - going on television or pursuing a major record deal is a no-go."  
  
"Obviously," Maglor said, an edge to his voice.  
  
"Sören. Stefan." Anthony's eyes met his again.  
  
"Please, call me Sören if we're in private," Sören said. "I need to preserve some of who I am."  
  
"I understand." Anthony gave him a brief sympathetic look. "Sören... the good news is that we have safely retrieved your art from the house in Akureyri, as well as the other objects you asked us to get you. I have it, here in this warehouse, it'll be coming home with you today."  
  
"Oh thank fuck," Sören said, relief flooding him - at least there was that.  
  
"The bad news is that you have a very distinctive style of painting. Your art is marvelous. I might commission you at some point, if you were OK with that."  
  
Sören was touched - he didn't sense any guile or false flattery; Anthony broadcasted seeing some of Sören's paintings and looking with awe, breath caught... The mental image quickly faded.  
  
"But it is _too_ good, is what I'm telling you. If you showcase your work anywhere public, such as a gallery, even using an assumed name, there is a risk of exposure, lines connected between Sören Sigurdsson and Stefan Kierkegaard, and that's a problem."  
  
"I'm not anyone famous," Sören said, feeling a bit on edge.  
  
"No, but you're not an unknown, either. You ran a studio in Akureyri. You've done exhibits in Reykjavik and London. Even with being on the other side of the world, there's a chance that you will run into someone from those art circles, or someone who knows someone. Regardless, it's not safe for you to show your work with your current style, and won't be for some time. By all means, keep producing art, just know that your current style must be limited in its exposure and anything meant for public consumption either needs to be in a different style or a different medium altogether."  
  
Sören felt like crying. He didn't want to cry in front of Anthony, even if Anthony was giving him a compassionate look and he could _feel_ it, seeming to know how much this was crushing him. Of all of the things Sören had lost - his family in another universe, his ability to drive, Van, Dag, his home in Iceland, his studio - this was the final hope shattered, the last straw of last straws. If it wasn't for the girls and needing to be here to take care of them, he promised his brother... _Don't think like that. Don't you dare._  
  
"Fuck," Sören said.  
  
"You said you had our things," Dooku said. "What about our cats..."  
  
"They will be delivered to you tonight, they're at a different location. I had to pull a bit of strings to get past the mandatory quarantine." Anthony frowned.  
  
"What about my family? If I no longer exist, on record..." Sören folded his arms.  
  
"Yes, we're in the process of touching base with them," Anthony said. "Actually, I was the one in charge of getting your aunts to Malta, so I already talk to them semi-regularly. Lovely people." He gave a small, fond smile and chuckled. "They tried to adopt me."  
  
"Oh." Sören blinked, softening just a little at the mention of Gitta and Jane. "How are they..."  
  
"Doing well," Anthony said, nodding. He got up and gestured to the coffee and breakfast laid out on his desk. "On that note, you should eat something..."  
  
As they ate and had coffee, Anthony pulled out a small address book from his desk. "This has a list of contacts approved by our department for anything you might need - handymen, housekeeping, doctors." He glanced at the girls, and back at the three men. "Attorneys."  
  
"Jesus," Maglor said.  
  
"Again, always better to be prepared and have something you don't need, than need something you don't have. And it goes without saying but if there's an emergency of _any_ kind - medical, legal, natural disaster - call Charlie or myself as soon as possible, even if you're getting it handled. We need to know what's going on with you... we have to be as careful as possible after what happened."  
  
When they were all ready, Anthony took them out to a company van, unmarked, a neutral grey. Sören called shotgun, getting in the passenger seat. The girls were getting fussy again and he held Kate on his lap, while Maglor held Tori. Outside surrounded by the green of Sydney, Sören felt the Force more sharply, and he was able to tune in and figure out the girls were hungry. He fed Kate as Anthony drove, quiet, his eyes on the road.  
  
They drove to what appeared to be one of the ritzier districts of Sydney - houses were larger, fewer and farther between... estates with tracts of land. At last they came to a two-story mansion on Bellevue Hill, on a circular cul-de-sac. There was parking in front of the house, rectangular and modern-looking with smooth light grey walls, lots of windows, the house framed by palm trees and native Australian trees and shrubbery.  
  
"This is a bit extravagant on the government's dime, já?" Sören's eyebrow went up. "This is, like, ten times the size of what we had in Akureyri." Sören snorted. "I don't know who was the posh twat who picked this out, but..."  
  
" _ **I am the posh twat.**_ " Anthony shot Sören a withering look.  
  
Sören had to stop himself from saying _Hi The Posh Twat, I'm Sören._ "Oh. Well. Sorry." He wasn't really.  
  
Once they got out of the van, Anthony said, "It's more practical than you might think it is. Your location means you won't have neighbors as close by as you did in Akureyri, which is less room for exposure. And we wanted to ensure you would be comfortable."  
  
"I guess fucking so." Sören let out a low whistle. "Damn, it's big."  
  
 _That's what he said,_ Anthony broadcasted. Sören tried not to grin, not wanting Anthony to realize he'd heard that. "Five bedrooms, four baths," Anthony said.  
  
"That's... that's a lot." _I bet he said that, too._ Sören found himself wondering just how big Anthony was... _Dammit brain, could you not._  
  
Their things had been brought to the van with a hand truck, which Dooku rolled inside now. Just the entrance room was huge, and flooded with natural sunlight. Anthony had them follow and they made their way into an even bigger room - an open plan living room and kitchen, tastefully furnished in the colors of the sea, pale blues and greys and white, large couches and armchairs in solid colors with cozy-looking throws and pillows. The floors were dark hardwood and matched the wooden coffee table and the wooden finish on the cupboards in the kitchen, with a large kitchen island done in white marble. The living room had a gas fireplace with a mantle. There were sliding glass doors in the living area that led out to a freeform-shape inground swimming pool inside a garden with high walls, a nice shaded area with palm trees and other trees, and there was a space beyond the garden that gave a gorgeous view of Sydney Harbour, crystal blue under the summer sun.  
  
" _Jesus._ " Sören couldn't believe it. This was luxurious beyond his wildest dreams and he hadn't even been past the main room yet.  
  
"I hope you find it satisfactory," Anthony said, with an edge to his voice that told Sören he was still annoyed about the "posh twat" comment. He looked at his watch - an expensive Rolex - and then he said, "All right. This is where I take my leave, I've got paperwork to file."  
  
"Are you going right back to London or are you staying in Australia a bit?" Sören had no idea why he was asking this. _What, do you want to see this guy again?_ Not that he could entirely blame himself... now he was staring at Anthony's firm, shapely ass, stopping before he could head out.  
  
"I'll be in Australia at least two weeks to make sure you're getting settled in, and I'll check in with you before then. There are new cell phones for you in the kitchen drawer, top right next to the stove. They've been programmed with my number and Charlie's."  
  
"OK." And Sören now felt the slightest twinge of guilt for the "posh twat" comment - even though Anthony did indeed seem to be a posh twat, between his Rolex and the upper-class London accent, and having a double-barrel surname. "Ah... thank you. For everything."  
  
Anthony turned around and gave Sören a thin, practiced smile that did not meet his eyes. "I hope everything goes well for you here." He looked at the three of them.  
  
Sören picked up the girls from their pram and marched them over to Anthony, trying to be friendly, not wanting Anthony to take things too personal. "Can you say bye-bye?"  
  
"Ah. Ra," Kate said. "Ra ra ra."  
  
"Ra ra ra ra ra," Tori said.  
  
Anthony's eyes softened and he gave a genuine smile now, his eyes crinkling at the corners; Sören's breath caught. "All right. I must be getting on."  
  
Sören nodded. "OK. We'll see you soon-ish?"  
  
"A fortnight, thereabouts. If you need anything before then, call me." Anthony gave him a mock stern look. "Stay out of trouble."  
  
Sören couldn't resist a cheeky grin. "I am trouble."  
  
"Yes. _I know._ " With that, Anthony Wyatt-Jones was out the door.


	33. Misplaced

**Misplaced**

Sören, Dooku and Maglor spent a long time on Thursday just taking it all in, touring the spacious new home. Two of the five bedrooms and two of the four bathrooms were ground level, with the other three bedrooms and two bathrooms up on the second floor. The garden and pool area was accessible by the glass sliding doors in the living room, and the open yard space was accessible by the back door - closer to where the ground-level bedrooms and bathrooms were, which was also where the staircase was. As it turned out there were more rooms in the house than just the bedrooms and the open plan living room and kitchen area, but there was also what looked like a second living room past the bedrooms, closest to the back door, and there were two such spaces upstairs, one closer to the stairwell and one towards the end of the second floor. Sören still thought it was all a bit excessive, especially when they had fewer possessions now than they did in Akureyri, but he knew he couldn't complain too much, especially when one of the bathrooms had a jacuzzi facing a large window that was on their view of Sydney Harbour. This was the sort of living situation he would have given his eyeteeth to have growing up poor, something he'd never dreamed possible, and now it had fallen into their laps.

Of course, it had fallen on them, and Sören was still reeling from the impact.

The first order of business was for Dooku and Maglor to call a cab. Sören took a nap on one of the living room couches while they were out, with the girls sleeping soundly in their pram nearby. Two hours later Dooku and Maglor came home in new cars, Dooku with a Jaguar and Maglor with a Bentley, both sleek and black. Charlie had been against them driving "ostentatious" vehicles in Akureyri where it would stick out much more - plus a jeep was much more practical for getting around Iceland in the winter - but Anthony had no issue with them driving more expensive vehicles, since they were already living in a well-to-do part of Sydney, in a mansion, it would have been more incongruous for them to drive something less flashy. Sören got the sense Anthony himself probably drove a nice car; he very much gave the impression as being from money.

Looking at Maglor's new Bentley, Sören had remembered "Alejandro" driving a Jaguar in Reykjavik, so he found the change curious.

"You know, Van drove a Bentley," Sören teased. "Is this your tribute to your boyfriend?"

Maglor facepalmed. "He is not my boyfriend."

Sören pressed on, desperately needing some levity after what they'd been through lately. "You should name your car Van."

"I am not naming my car."

"Hi Not Naming My Car -"

Dooku had Maglor and Sören get in his Jaguar, and they made three trips, first to a pet supply store to pick up new items for Huan as well as the impending arrival of the cats - dog food and bowls, cat food and bowls, a water fountain and additional water dispenser, a domed litter box and cat litter, two cat trees, a selection of cat and dog toys. The second trip was to a department store to get more clothing for themselves and the girls since they'd lost most of their clothes back in Iceland. The last trip was to a grocery store, where they also bought diapers and more baby food and formula in addition to things for meals and snacks. Their bedrooms were mostly furnished - one of the bedrooms on the ground floor had been designated as a nursery, with two cribs waiting - but they would eventually want to go shopping for things to make it their own. In the meantime, these were essentials.

Sören and Maglor got to work setting up the items for Huan and the cats, as Dooku unloaded the groceries, took an inventory of what cookware and appliances were in the kitchen and what he might need, and then got right to work making dinner to put in the slow cooker that he found in the kitchen with various other appliances. Once the babies had been fed and things for the cats and dog were arranged, Sören and Maglor took Huan outside, sitting out at a picnic table in the yard looking out at Sydney Harbour, drinking lemonade as Huan ran around. It felt surreal; Sören was still having a hard time believing all of this.

"Justin used to make fun of me for being poor," Sören said. "You know, working as a barista, coming from nothing..." Sören snorted. "The irony being his father grew up in council housing and got his money as a loan shark."

Maglor had that murderous "I'd kill him again" look on his face that he always had when Sören brought up Justin. "It takes a certain amount of deplorability to mock the less fortunate," Maglor said, scowling into his lemonade. "Kicking someone when they're already down -"

"Jæja, obviously I... wasn't in a good place when I was with him." Sören sighed. Then he gave a bitter chuckle, looking at the sparkling waters of Sydney Harbour, and around at the lush green of their yard, the back view of their gorgeous new home. "He'd fucking shit himself if he could see me now." With that, Sören raised both middle fingers in the air. "Hope you can see this in hell, you piece of shit," he called out.

Maglor grinned at Sören. "I love you, you know."

"I love you too." Sören dragged Maglor up from the picnic table. "Come on, let's unpack the rest of our stuff."

"We should put our new clothes away first, hang and fold them..."

"Oh, all right."

When they were mostly done going through the new clothes and had started a washload of underwear, the doorbell rang. Dooku got to it before Sören and Maglor did, and Sören watched as Dooku signed for a delivery - he looked down and saw three cat carriers.

After the door was closed and the deliveryman on his way, Dooku opened up the cat carriers. Snúdur, Pumpkin and Rasputin wandered out of their cages and began sniffing around. Sören made a high-pitched noise and started crying with sheer relief at seeing his cats again. "My babies," he cooed through his tears. "Oh god, my babies..."

Instead of unpacking the stuff they'd brought to Canada and Australia, Sören and Maglor ended up curling up together on the couch, fussing over the cats. Sören couldn't stop crying for a good while, his tears of relief over having his cats again mixing with relief over finally being home, and grief for the home he'd lost, the uncertainty and fear of the future. Maglor pet Sören with one hand, and the cats with the other, and Sören soaked Maglor's T-shirt with how much he cried.

Sören cried himself into a nap; Dooku woke them up for dinner, having made a chicken curry that Sören raved about. The girls were fed, and the cats crunched and slurped away happily at their cat food. Things felt peaceful and almost normal.

Almost.

The girls were bathed then changed and put down to sleep, and then Sören and Maglor took Huan for a walk through the new neighborhood as the sun set. Sören took in the lush green of the rolling land and the trees, the distance between mansions. Back at their own mansion, Sören, Dooku and Maglor took turns showering and after their showers they sat together drinking champagne in the jacuzzi, which had an amazing view of Sydney Harbour at sunset. Sören thought the view of his husbands sitting naked in the hot tub was just as gorgeous, but he was too exhausted to do anything about it, and they were just as exhausted as he was, so they went to bed to cuddle and sleep.

Sören was woken up twice in the middle of the night to tend to the girls, Dooku going with him the first time and Maglor the second time. Though Sören was able to get back to sleep, he still felt drained and out of it when he got up on Friday morning.

But, the house needed to become a home, for all their sakes, so after a light breakfast of fruit and toast, Sören, Dooku and Maglor got to work unpacking the things they'd brought through the Portal, as well as the things that Anthony had arranged to ship from Iceland. Sören cried as he went through his paintings, remembering what he was told:

_...you have a very distinctive style of painting. ...If you showcase your work anywhere public, such as a gallery, even using an assumed name, there is a risk of exposure, lines connected between Sören Sigurdsson and Stefan Kierkegaard, and that's a problem. You ran a studio in Akureyri. You've done exhibits in Reykjavik and London. Even with being on the other side of the world, there's a chance that you will run into someone from those art circles, or someone who knows someone. Regardless, it's not safe for you to show your work with your current style, and won't be for some time. By all means, keep producing art, just know that your current style must be limited in its exposure and anything meant for public consumption either needs to be in a different style or a different medium altogether._

The irony that he had _just_ gotten back into the groove with his art after a dry spell following the Dagorath, and now he was going to have to keep it private for the foreseeable future - probably at least the next couple of decades. Sören created for himself first and foremost, he was still making art when he was with Justin even though he'd stopped showing anywhere thanks to Justin's verbal abuse... but he had decidedly less motivation when he wasn't producing for an audience. Art, and the sharing of art, had helped keep him together all these years, and now...

Sören shoved that train of thought away, knowing that road went back to becoming a living blanket heap not doing much of anything and he needed to not fall apart again for his daughters' sake. He forced himself to focus on something else - Dooku and Maglor were debating where to hang the sword rack, and display their three swords.

Looking at the sword that once belonged to Tindómion and had found its way to him was strangely reassuring, not that Sören was glad that Tindómion had died, especially being burned at the stake, but it was a piece of his family, and felt like a promise that someday Tindómion would himself return to them.

And then Sören's heart sank, as he realized in the chaos and panic and overwhelming emotions of their trek through Canada, he'd forgotten to ask Anthony for two critical things.

"Oh god," Sören blurted aloud.

"Hm?" Dooku turned to look at him.

Sören sat down, breathing harder as the tears came on. "The ashes... Claire's ashes. And the dirt from Tindómion's farm, where his ashes were scattered... I forgot to tell Anthony we needed those. Oh god, I forgot. I'm such a dumbass, I'm so sorry..."

"Shhhhh, Sören." Maglor came over and began to rub Sören's back, pet his curls. Dooku came around to rub Sören's shoulder. "It's OK."

"No, it's not fucking OK. That's all I have of Claire, that's one of two things we have of your son, my grandson..." Sören sobbed. "And I forgot. _How could I forget those things?_ God..."

"Sören." Maglor got down on his knees and took Sören's hands and kissed them. "We're not angry at you. Hells, I could have told you when you were having the shit-hits-the-fan conversation to have the agent getting our stuff to get those things, and _I_ didn't, and that's my son, and someone very important to me in other worlds. It was easy enough to let it slip in all the turmoil. It doesn't mean we don't love them, or forgot _them_."

Sören continued to sob, still feeling guilty. "Claire... that's all I have of Claire... and I loved her..."

"It's not all you have of her." Maglor put his hand on Sören's heart. "You have your memories of her. Those endure, even after all else crumbles. True love never dies."

"I still wish -"

"I know." Maglor, still on his knees, pulled Sören into a tight hug, and Dooku held them both, rocked them. "But it couldn't be helped."

"I'm so sorry -"

"You have nothing to be sorry for."

"I'm so sorry..."

"Sören, please. Stop apologizing. You did nothing wrong."

_You can't do anything right,_ came Justin's voice in his head, came Katrín's and Einar's. "I'm sorry," Sören wept, still feeling guilty, ashamed, feeling the loss of them on top of the loss of Dag. "I'm so sorry..."

Dooku sighed and said, "Hi So Sorry."

Sören looked up and Dooku gave him a small, mischievous smile, though his eyes were sad. He tousled Sören's curls and then he said, "As you know, the ashes are just the remains of the body. Claire's spirit is no longer there. I know it's of sentimental value, and I am not dismissing its importance. But eventually, you will be reunited with her. In the meantime... you have to keep moving forward." Dooku sighed again. "We all do."

Maglor nodded. "We have to try to make a life out here, one step at a time."

"I did some research on Google when I couldn't get back to sleep after getting up with you to tend to the babies," Dooku said, "and we are a seven-minute drive from Bondi Beach. Would you like to go to the beach?"

Maglor sprang right up, and Sören managed to laugh at that.

They got ready - Sören brought swim trunks that he'd bought yesterday - and got the girls ready, and shipped out in Dooku's Jaguar.

Bondi Beach was very different than the beaches Sören was used to in Iceland. White sand, rocks, waves being ridden by surfers. There were a fair amount of people laying on the beach soaking up the sun, as well as people swimming in the ocean. Sören put waterproof sunblock on the girls and he carried them on a baby sling as he waded into the sea, smiling at the warm water. He thought about baby swimming lessons for the pool back home. In the meantime the girls were fascinated by the water, making happy noises as they watched the waves, and Sören let them splash around a little, spluttering as Kate decided to splash him, and he could have sworn Tori laughed.

When Sören brought the girls back to shore, Maglor took them, and then Dooku picked Sören up - making Sören squeal and laugh - and Dooku carried him into the water. Holding Dooku and being held in the waves was a sweet, tender moment that Sören burned into his memories, savoring that feeling of closeness with him... that no matter what, they always had each other.

Dooku and Sören came out of the water to find Maglor was carrying the girls in a baby sling, strolling along the shore, singing - now singing as much to the girls as he was at the waves. For the briefest instant Sören could see through Maglor's glamour to the full truth of him, the silver aura, the flood of hair to his thighs, the gem-like flash of his eyes. Sören knew Maglor hadn't dropped his glamour, he was just seeing past it, right down to the hair stirring in the breeze.

Sören wondered about that on the way home. He had looked through Maglor's glamour without trying. And he knew that when he saw with his mind's eye for his art, he saw the deeper reality of a person, without trying. After what happened to Dag, he still felt ill at ease around strangers, spending much of yesterday feeling high anxiety at stores; today he hadn't panicked at Bondi Beach, but he was also still tired. He wondered if he could consciously train himself to start looking at people and seeing if they were really who they presented themselves to be or not. It might be a useful survival skill later.

In the meantime, the mental image of Maglor carrying the girls, singing to them as he strolled along the shore, was precious and beautiful. Sören wanted to at least sketch it to preserve the memory more tangibly. When they got home he looked through the sketchbooks he'd brought, trying to find the one he was working on in Nina's truck...

...and that sketchbook was missing. He'd left it in the truck.

"FUCK," Sören yelled. He was so angry with himself that he started to cry, and got even angrier with himself for crying. _All I fucking do is cry, like a whiny baby. I am a grown-ass man. I am a parent now. I can't be like this._ The girls, who had been peaceful after the beach, were now getting agitated, crying with them.

Sören tried to pull himself together for the girls, but he was struggling; Maglor came in and sang, calming them all down. Then after the girls were put down for a nap, Maglor spooned Sören on the bed. They lay there in silence for a few minutes and finally Maglor asked, "What's wrong, love?"

"I don't want to talk about it right now." _I don't want to fall apart again._

The rest of Friday was relatively cozy and content despite Sören's lingering upset at now two important things he forgot; Dooku grilled out in the yard and they ate dinner outside. There was another dip in the jacuzzi before tangling up together to sleep.

And then on Saturday afternoon, Dooku went furniture shopping while Sören and Maglor stayed home. When Maglor was reading to the girls, Sören once again wished he had his sketchbook and he broke down.

"I know you didn't want to talk about it yesterday but now you're going to talk about it," Maglor said, giving Sören a stern look.

"I lost one of my sketchbooks," Sören choked out. "It had some old pictures in it - like of Dag, and... and..." Sören doubled over, bawling.

And of course, he didn't have Nina's contact information - he didn't even have Nina's real name.

"Maybe you could call Anthony to ask Nina if..." Maglor raised an eyebrow.

Sören vehemently shook his head. "He's busy, I should only bother him if it's an emergency. This isn't an emergency."

"You're upset enough that it feels like one."

"Jæja, I'm a big baby." Sören sniffled and cried some more. He didn't want to explain stuff to Anthony and cry in front of him. He didn't even want to cry in front of Maglor right now. "I guess I'll just suck it up."

Maglor sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

The girls were getting agitated again by Sören crying - heaping on the guilt. Maglor got Sören distracted by the two of them loading the girls in the pram and pushing the pram as they took Huan for a walk. After their walk there was a nap.

Sören woke up from his nap in the evening, feeling like someone was watching him from far away. He could feel the eyes on the girls, searching for something...

Sören shoved with the Force, as hard as he could, and shouted into the mind of whoever was doing it. _Don't you EVER fucking do that again._

Now he had something to worry about more than the loss of his sketchbook.

_

_Adelaide, Australia_

It was Saturday night, but Alinta Jonsson's boss was known to call her for jobs at any time, and likewise, Ali could call him if it was important.

This was important. It had been weighing on her mind since she'd flown back from Sydney - she still didn't understand why she had to drive to Alice Springs and fly back from Sydney, why she couldn't have flown both ways, which made this entire assignment seem that much more clandestine, like her cousin was definitely on the run from something and everything going into his transport had to be just so.

And the way he had shoved her out of his head when she reached out earlier that evening... he was _terrified._ Ali had already gotten the feeling he'd seen some shit when he rode in her truck, but now...

She flipped through the sketchbook again, even as it felt a bit wrong, like she was going through something as intimate as an underwear drawer. She lingered on a sketch of herself riding a battle kangaroo, which made her smile, and then a more serious sketch of her wandering the outback. It was as if on a subconscious level he knew that she was family, somehow, that she belonged here in this sketchbook with other drawings of his family.

He had been so lovable, squeaking at those damn kangaroos. As scared as he was, he'd still found something positive on the trip. She wished there was something she could do to make him feel less afraid - feeling protective of her cousin even though he was older. Ali swallowed hard, her eyes misting. _My family needs me, even if he doesn't know he needs me._

She sighed and closed the sketchbook before she could break down. _Let's start with getting this sketchbook back to him, and start from there._

With the sketchbook on her lap, she waved her hand and her cell phone flew over. She dialed Murdock's number.

"Murdock, I need a favor."

"What is it."

Ali took a deep breath. "I need the contact info of the person who gave you the Protocol Delta assignment that you sent me on recently."

"No. Can't do that, sorry."

"Why not?"

"That's part of the protocol -"

"Fuck protocol. If they come down on you, give them an excuse, like... your computer was hacked, or your phone was stolen, or something. Anything. _Please._ Murdock. You know how I am. I normally don't ask for things. I'm proud. But now? I'm begging you. This is important."

"I can't, but even if I could, I don't understand why you need that info."

"One of the three people I was transporting in that assignment left something behind in my truck. Something valuable."

"Oh well, I guess it sucks to be them, don't it?" A wry chuckle. "They'll learn to be more careful this time -"

"No, _you don't understand._ When I say valuable, I mean..." Ali decided to bluff, as much as she despised doing so. _This is for a good cause._ "This is something that shouldn't have been left behind, and if it had been a driver other than me, well... let's just say it's a good thing I'm the one who did this job. This is a very sensitive thing, connected to why they had to move in the first place." _In a way, I'm not wrong,_ Ali told herself, remembering the sketches of the scientist who disappeared.

There was a pause, and though Ali was still concerned Murdock would say no, the fact that he hadn't immediately shouted her down, argued back with her, and hadn't hung up yet was hopeful.

Finally Murdock said. "All right, lass. The person you want to get in touch with is a Mr. Wyatt-Jones. I can't promise that he'll help you, but -"

"Look, if I can talk to him, we'll take it from there. Please, I need his contact info. Phone, preferably." E-mails could be too easily ignored.

"You got a pen and paper?"

"I do."

_

_All right, here goes nothing._ Ali took a few deep breaths, and punched in the number she was told to call.

One ring. Two. "Anthony Wyatt-Jones."

"Right, hello, Mr. Wyatt-Jones. My name is Alinta Jonsson and I work as a driver for Apollyon Enterprises, and there is a matter of particular importance that you might be able to help me with."

A pause. "How did you get this number?" He had a crisp, well-bred London accent, a soft but commanding baritone.

"I would rather not say. Everything surrounding why I'm calling you is of a sensitive nature." Ali squared her shoulders. "I was on a Protocol Delta assignment, I assume you know what that means -"

_Click._

"Shit." Ali took some more deep breaths and then she hit the number again.

Four rings and it went to voice mail. Ali hung up and tried again. And tried again. And tried again.

Finally he answered his phone. "Ms. Jonsson, I really don't have time for this."

"Neither do I but this is _urgent_ -"

"Ms. Jonsson, I should not even be acknowledging to you that _I_ know what Protocol Delta is, on my end, but here it is. You are not supposed to discuss the details of these assignments. With anyone. Period. You do understand what the word 'classified' means."

Ali was bristling. "Of course I _fucking_ know what 'classified' means, you..." She choked back a string of insults. Being talked to like she was stupid by someone with that posh accent... _If I didn't know better I'd think I was on the phone with Benedict Fucking Cumberbatch._ "Can I get a word in? Please?"

"Are you going to keep calling me every five minutes until I let you or am forced to change my number?"

"You do understand what the word 'urgent' means, Mr. Wyatt-Jones."

A short pause. "Go on."

"One of the three passengers I had on the assignment left something behind in my truck. It needs to be returned to them."

"'Need' is a relative term, Ms. Jonsson. Material objects can be easily replaced, the value of which do not outweigh the need to protect the privacy of everyone involved."

"This is not something that can be replaced. I would rather not say what it is over the phone, but it is more valuable than you think it is."

A telltale small sigh. "If you drop it off at the Apollyon Enterprises office nearest you, or I can coordinate to have one of our employees come pick it up -"

"With all due respect, Mr. Wyatt-Jones, this is something I'd rather deliver in-person. I have no guarantee that someone else will safely bring it to him. I can only guarantee what I would do myself."

"Ms. Jonsson, while I appreciate your conscience and your work ethic, the location of the parties involved is classified for your protection as well as theirs. However if it is as important, urgent, and irreplaceable as you say it is, I'm willing to come by myself, pick it up, and personally see to its delivery, and I give you my word that it will be done."

"No. This is something I need to do myself."

"I'm afraid I don't understand, in that case."

"It's important, urgent, and irreplaceable because it's of a sensitive nature. I've already seen what it is, but I don't know enough about your role in the food chain here to know if this is something that you should be seeing yourself." It was another bluff, Ali knew there was likely a damn good chance Wyatt-Jones had that clearance. "And I feel like the less eyes that see this, the better it will be for the aforementioned protection of the parties involved."

There was a long pause, and for a moment Ali felt like someone or something was in the room with her. She felt a pair of eyes on her, that feeling of being stared at, but it felt like it was from far away. And then, for an instant, she felt like the eyes were looking directly into her mind, and somehow knew she was bluffing, yet also knew there was more to the story than she was getting into over the phone.

"I can't help you, Ms. Jonsson. You can either give me the object that needs to be returned and I will do so, or we can end this conversation and I'll try to forget that you broke protocol by asking your boss who his boss is and how to get in touch with me."

_Shit, he knows I got his info from Murdock. Of course he does..._ Ali shuddered at that feeling of having been _seen_. "How about a third option: tell me who you work for and I'll ask them for the info I need myself."

_Click._

Ali growled, and restrained the urge to throw her phone across the room.

_I'm not done with you yet, Anthony Wyatt-Jones._ She would let it go for today, and try again tomorrow. She was going to wear him down - she had felt that touch of power, like her own, and she knew he wouldn't have done remote viewing if there wasn't at least a tiny chance he'd be willing to accede her request for help.

It also made her wonder just what _exactly_ was going on with Apollyon Enterprises, if there was someone else like her afoot, involved in giving classified assignments. After all, Van Apollyon was notorious for being mysterious - no pictures of him anywhere, nobody knew what he looked like, he conducted his business through agents. Having things like this in his company... _Who the bloody hell am I working for, really?_


	34. I Will Follow

**I Will Follow**

  
  
  
Ali continued to try to get a hold of Anthony Wyatt-Jones all day Sunday and throughout Monday morning and afternoon. When it became clear he wasn't taking her calls - Ali suspected he had her number blocked - she stomped off into the backyard and let out a scream of frustration.  
  
Kenny came out a few minutes later and gently put an arm around her.  
  
"This obstinate _twat_ ," Ali said, with the phone hovering a few feet in front of her, glaring at Anthony Wyatt-Jones's number on her contacts screen. "I get it that something very bad is going on here, but for fuck's sake, why don't they want me to bring this bloody sketchbook?"  
  
"Probably because something very bad is going on," Kenny said, "like whatever it was that made that scientist disappear. They're trying to keep the same thing from happening to him, I guess, and they don't want to make it easy to get information out of you if, you know, it's discovered you drove him to Sydney."  
  
"Yeh. Just..." Ali growled. "This twat, Anthony Wanker-Jerk or whatever the _fuck_ his name is -"  
  
Kenny snorted.  
  
"Posh fucking twat with a hyphenated fucking surname -"  
  
"Our kids have a hyphenated surname," Kenny pointed out.  
  
Ali glared at him and went on, "Posh fucking twat asking me if I know what bloody fucking 'classified' fucking means. I swear on me _mum_ if I ever meet this twat in person I'm going to slap him, and he's bloody fucking _earnt_ it."  
  
"Well, I mean, he's doing his job," Kenny said. "Even if he's your boss's boss, he doesn't know _you_ , and if things are this bad he has to err on the side of caution. It's really maddening and it sucks. I know. But if he was giving out your cousin's contact information to every random person, that would be a problem."  
  
Ali sighed. She knew he was right, but right now she needed a convenient target for her anger. "He's still a twat. Who won't take my calls."  
  
Kenny scratched his head and rubbed his chin, and then Ali watched as Kenny's cell phone flew out of his pocket. He passed it to Ali. "Here. He doesn't have _my_ number blocked." Kenny gave her a mischievous grin.  
  
Ali affectionately mussed Kenny's hair and gave him a quick peck. "Thanks, love."  
  
  
_  
  
  
"Anthony Wyatt-Jones."  
  
"It's me again."  
  
An exasperated breath. "Ms. Jonsson, I am going to ask you politely _one time_ to leave me alone."  
  
"Mr. Wyatt-Jones, _please._ I'm trying to be careful what I say over the phone..." That much, at least, was not a lie. She didn't know how much risk she'd be putting herself at - or him - by mentioning she was 99% sure one of those passengers was her cousin. "There's more to this story than I can tell you over the phone. It's complicated. And something tells me you understand a thing or two about complicated."  
  
"I've told you I can't help you."  
  
" _You_ don't have to help me. Just do what you know Murdock did for me - you know, _what you figured out without me telling you_." A thinly veiled threat, an _I know what you are_ push.  
  
"It was a matter of deduction as to how you would have gotten my number."  
  
"Mhm." _Sure it is._ "Give me your boss's info and I'll leave you alone. I know they may not be willing to help me either, but at least it'll be out of your hands, right?"  
  
 _Click._  
  
  
_  
  
  
"Audley."  
  
"Charlie, we have a potential situation."  
  
"Don't you always, Anthony."  
  
"There is a certain employee on the books of Apollyon Enterprises - one Alinta Johanna Jonsson, truck driver. Aboriginal, twenty-seven years old, lives in Adelaide. She's been calling me regarding a recent Protocol Delta job. You know the one - bringing our three snowflakes to Sydney."  
  
"I see. What does she want?"  
  
"One of them left something in her truck. She wants it returned. She wants to do it _herself_. Naturally, I can't give out a home address. She's been asking me for your contact info so she can go above me and ask you for this information, as if she thinks her likelihood of hearing 'no' will go down the higher up she goes."  
  
"Hmm. And she's being a real pain in your arse?"  
  
"With the prospect of it getting worse, and I'm not keen on changing my number if it's all the same to you."  
  
"All right. Give her my number. I can say no."  
  
"She won't take no for an answer, Charlie, or I would have already given her that info and pretended I knew nothing about how she got it."  
  
Charlie snorted. "Thanks, Anthony. Twat."  
  
Anthony blew a kiss over the phone. "I wanted to be very sure you had the heads up before I went ahead, you know what you're getting into. So if you're very sure -"  
  
"Yeah, I don't see the harm in it, go ahead."  
  
"I hope it won't cause you _too_ much aggravation."  
  
"It probably won't."  
  
"Famous last words." _Click._  
  
  
  
_  
  
  
Kenny got in from the supermarket with Megadeth and Metallica in tow, and found Ali sitting on the couch with her head in her hands, moping.  
  
"Hey, babe. What's wrong?"  
  
Ali made a noise.  
  
"Well, hey... the kids are gonna help me with dinner. We'll be out on the deck after we put these groceries away, all right?"  
  
Ali nodded.  
  
When Kenny and the kids got to work assembling the barbecue, Ali put the telly on to try to distract herself, begin the process of dialing back her negative mood at least long enough to not be grumpy around her kids, not wanting them to see her like this. She wasn't paying attention, just zoning out, hugging a pillow, curled up in the fetal position on the couch, but at least the sound of another voice was enough to begin bringing her out of her head somewhat.  
  
And then there was a knock on the door. Ali raised an eyebrow - she wasn't expecting anyone tonight. She thought about ignoring it, but there it was again. She got up and answered the door. There was nobody there - the sound of a car driving off - and on the doormat, an envelope had been dropped.  
  
Ali had reservations about strange envelopes dropped off under shady circumstances, but something told her to go ahead, proceeding with caution. When she was sure nobody was looking, she waved her hand and the envelope "blew" in to the house, and once the door was closed, with the envelope hovering in front of her several feet off the floor, she used her mind to open it, and withdrew the business card she saw inside. An Apollyon Enterprises business card for one Charlie Audley floated into her hand.  
  
"Thank you, Anthony," Ali muttered under her breath, and then, "You're still a twat."  
  
  
_  
  
  
Ali steeled herself, taking a few deep breaths before she dialed the number on the card. Her hand was shaking. She didn't quite understand _why_ she was this nervous, apart from feeling like she had fallen down the rabbit hole and she was newly entering Wonderland.  
  
Ali punched in the number on her cell before she could lose her nerve. One ring. Two. Three. "Come on, _come on_ ," Ali huffed.  
  
"Audley."  
  
"Yes, hi, hello... Charlie Audley? You don't know me but my name is Alinta -"  
  
"Jonsson? Truck driver for Apollyon Enterprises." A wry chuckle. "Yes, I was warned about you."  
  
 _Oh lady, you don't_ know _what I'm capable of where my family is concerned._ "I see. So you've been told the predicament I'm in, then."  
  
"Ms. Jonsson, I can personally vouch for Anthony being trustworthy enough to take the item in question directly to your passenger. I understand and appreciate why you'd feel more comfortable doing it yourself, but it's been explained to you that for safety reasons we cannot and will not release the passenger's contact information."  
  
"I had rather hoped I could reason with you, Ms. Audley. I understand Anthony Wanker-Jer- -" Ali caught herself just in time. "Anthony Wyatt-Jones may not be in a position to authorize the release of the contact information, but maybe you can level with me here."  
  
"There is nothing to -"  
  
" _Look_ , Ms. Audley. The assignment I was given may be classified, but I'm not _stupid._ There was all this secrecy involved because the people I transported are in some kind of trouble or some kind of danger, or both. What I have in my hand is potentially going to throw gasoline on the fire in the wrong hands -"  
  
"All the more reason for Anthony to be the one to deliver the item."  
  
"- and out of all the drivers at Apollyon Enterprises, I was chosen for the job of bringing them to Sydney. Me and not some other random Joe. Surely, you must have done some sort of background check on me and seen that I was trustworthy, responsible... that I'm not in bed with whoever you're trying to protect my passengers from."  
  
"Oh, I'm sure you're not. My decision still stands, however. We need you to not become of interest to the wrong people if there's ever a breach in the system and it comes out you transported a certain three individuals. If you were picked up by the wrong people and asked questions, we need you to not have answers that can easily be given through truth serum or enhanced interrogation methods. That sort of thing."  
  
"I'm a big girl, I can handle myself."  
  
"Can you? A lot of people talk tough until the actual shit hits the fan. If it's all the same to you, I'd rather not find out whether you're all talk. That could be bad for a lot of people besides you."  
  
Ali's blood was boiling. "You don't know," she said quietly, "what I can or can't do."  
  
"No. I don't. Which is why you're not getting that information."  
  
 _Click._  
  
Ali let out another scream of frustration. "What is it with you posh fucking _twats_ and your fucking -" Ali pulled on her dreadlocks. "ARGH. ARRRRRRRRRRRRGH."  
  
  
_  
  
  
After sausage sizzles and salad for dinner, Ali and Kenny curled up on the couch together while Metallica and Megadeth played with Legos on the floor a few feet away.  
  
"How goes it?" Kenny asked.  
  
Ali made a noise.  
  
"Is Assface Wanker-Jerk still not taking your calls?"  
  
"Oh, we evolved beyond him now."  
  
"He... evolved. Like a Pokemon? Is he... Dickbutt Wanker-Jerk now?"  
  
Ali laughed so hard she teared up, snorting. Kenny looked very proud of himself for that. "No, not like that," Ali said when she calmed down. "I got the number of his boss and she's being even more..." Ali made a vague hand gesture and another noise.  
  
"I see." Kenny folded his arms and scowled - Ali knew that face, and knew Kenny was thinking. After a moment Kenny turned to her and said, "So when you're talking to these people, like... what specifically are you telling them? What are you asking for?"  
  
"Well, I'm not telling them it's a sketchbook, they would probably think I'm making a big to-do over a lot of nothing, though, judging from what I've seen in the sketchbook it's not a lot of nothing. He's _good_ , like professional artist good." _Like there's actual magic in his art, good._ "What I am telling them is that it's an important item. Arseface Wanker-Jerk offered to deliver it himself and I told him no. Yes, I was being honest when I said it would bug my conscience less to bring it there myself and personally make sure it gets there. I left out that part about how it's my cousin and I'd like to get in touch with him."  
  
"Why? Why haven't you mentioned that?"  
  
"On the off chance I'm wrong. Or..." Ali swallowed hard. "On the off chance that they decide now _I'm_ potentially a problem and they want to send us off god-knows-where at the drop of a hat. Plus, I have to get into it with my family history. To be honest, I'm surprised they don't already know if..." _If what? They're a front for government agency stuff? But that's crazy._  
  
"Well, you're just a truck driver, so I mean, they wouldn't necessarily do a full-on background check of every blood relative you have ever, they would just want to make sure of a clean arrest record and -"  
  
"Yeh." Ali nodded. "But in any case, something in me is making me hold off on playing those cards."  
  
"OK. And when you say you want to personally make sure it gets there -"  
  
"I mean I'm asking for his contact information."  
  
"Hm, OK." Kenny nodded. " _Thaaaaaaaat_ might be your problem. If they're trying to protect your cousin and his, ah... boyfriends or whatever it is, from the same shit that the scientist ran into, they're not going to want to be giving out his home address and such."  
  
"Yeh, but not even a cell number, so I can call him myself?"  
  
"They probably don't want you meeting at all, but at the very least not at his house, no. So..." Kenny raised an eyebrow. "There's no chance you're gonna drop this, huh?"  
  
"He's my cousin. I have to try."  
  
"Mkay." Kenny nodded again. "Can you dial it back a few notches? Like instead of asking for contact info, ask if they can set up a neutral meeting ground, someplace that isn't his house, where he can come meet you and get the thing? Like anywhere. A McDonald's, the Opera House, somewhere."  
  
"That's... actually brilliant. I wish I'd thought of that." Ali threw her arms around Kenny. "OK, lemme go call her again -"  
  
Ali sprang from the couch, had her cell phone float into her hand, and hit Charlie's number. As it was ringing she attempted to run down the hall to have less noise and distraction... and she stepped on a Lego.  
  
"Audley."  
  
"JESUS FUCKING _CHRIST_ FUCKING MOTHERFUCK SHITTING BALLS FUCKING _CUNT_ ," Ali screamed, hopping as her foot throbbed from the Lego.  
  
 _Click._  
  
"Oh shit," Ali gasped, realizing she'd said that into the phone. "OH SHIT OH CHRIST OH _FUCK_ DAMMIT FUCK FUCKING SHIT BOLLOCKS WANKING CRAPTITS FUCKING SHITBALLS _FFFFFFFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK._ "  
  
Ali frantically redialed Charlie's number. Four rings, no answer. She tried again. And again. And again. It became apparent that Charlie, too, was blocking her.  
  
Kenny's cell phone floated a foot away from Ali. Ali reached out and grabbed it. She dialed Charlie's number on Kenny's phone.  
  
Two rings in, "Audley."  
  
"Charlie it's Alinta Jonsson please _please_ don't-hang-up-I-stepped-on-a-Lego."  
  
A pause. Then, "You talk tough but you get like that when you step on a Lego. _Really._ "  
  
"Oh, for the love of -" Ali grit her teeth, forcing back the slew of profanity wanting to rain down. She took a deep breath. "OK. _OK._ I get it that you don't want me to have my passengers' contact info."  
  
"So why are you still bothering me?"  
  
"Because." _You are getting on my last goddamn nerve, lady._ "Can you meet me halfway? I won't ask for the home address or a cell number. If you could coordinate a meeting at a place that isn't their home, or mine. Like, a Maccas, even. You pick the place, I don't care. That way I can deliver the item myself and no top-secret, classified information is revealed -"  
  
"My answer is still no, Ms. Jonsson."  
  
" _Why?_ "  
  
"I can't tell you why. I can only tell you no. And give you a piece of advice. Which is to stop making a nuisance of yourself, or I can make life very difficult for you." _Click._  
  
"Bitch," Ali spat. _I don't take kindly to your threats._  
  
Far from being a deterrent, Ali was even more determined now to scale this wall.  
  
  
_  
  
  
It took Ali a long time to get to sleep that night, and when she did sleep her dreams were troubled. She dreamed of herself in a body not her own - white skin, red hair, male - and she was captured by an evil, demonic-looking being who hung her by her right hand on the face of a mountain for what felt like ages. Mocked. Beaten. Starved. Then one day, her hand was cut off to free her.  
  
And still, broken, she charged on, to find whatever it was she was looking for. Because she had to. Because she had _sworn_ to.  
  
Ali woke up screaming, "My oath! My oath!"  
  
It was unsettling enough that she had to go look at herself in the mirror when she woke up, the familiar dark skin, the long dreadlocks, the hips that gave birth, the breasts. _Just brain soup, is all._ But her brain usually regurgitated random events, people, places, and things, and this was something else entirely. And somehow it was connected to whatever this was with her cousin. She didn't understand what.  
  
Only that she had sworn in her heart to find him, and return what was his. Not just the sketchbook, but a connection to family. Hope, like lighting a flame in the dark.


	35. A Change Of Perspective

**A Change Of Perspective**

  
  
  
On Tuesday the fifteenth, after Ali had some coffee and the kids were at their last day of school before holiday break, she sat down to try to tackle the business of getting Charlie Audley to help her. _Like blood from a stone._  
  
She thought about a further compromise, building on Kenny's idea and expanding it. But Charlie Audley was now ignoring her phone _and_ Kenny's. Ali drove to a department store, bought a cheap prepaid phone, and after she put airtime on it she sat with it in the parking lot.  
  
"Audley."  
  
"What if you arranged for a private meeting at a neutral location like Maccas and you had me escorted by Anthony Wyatt-Jones? Or another agent you trust. Or yourself even."  
  
 _Click._  
  
"God _dammit._ " Being hung up on without even so much as a "no" made her even angrier.  
  
She took a detour on her drive home to try to calm down but she had obviously been crying - Kenny noticed when she arrived. He made her tea and they sat down with it.  
  
For a few minutes they just sat in silence and finally Kenny said, "So she's not going to cooperate with you at all whatsoever."  
  
"Nope."  
  
"And there isn't a boss's boss above Charlie?"  
  
"I don't know, but I'd probably run into the same firewall." Ali hung her head. "This is fucking infuriating."  
  
"So you've hit a wall, but you're... not going to let this go."  
  
"I _can't_ , Kenny. If you were in the same position, if this was one of your cousins -"  
  
Kenny put up a hand and nodded silently. "I get it." He took a deep breath.  
  
"If I was face to face," Ali said, "maybe she could... I don't know, see how upset I am, maybe if she had a fucking shred of compassion she might level with me then. Or I could, you know." Ali waved her hand, making the teacup float to her. "Give her a little pushy push."  
  
"Much as you don't like doing that."  
  
"Well, no, I don't. It... you know. It feels gross, mind control shit, even if it's just this one thing and it's temporary. Desperate times call for desperate measures." Ali pursed her lips. "To be honest, I'd be willing to slap the shit out of her if I thought she'd give me the information I need." Ali folded her arms. "Actually, I think we're past the point of being polite and I'd have to go straight to being scary to get her to cooperate with me."  
  
"Jesus, Ali."  
  
But Kenny had known she was like this from the beginning - they'd met when she used to give outback tours and Kenny was taking photos, and Ali had been groped by an American tourist and before Kenny could jump to her defense, she had knocked the man down, stomped on his hands - breaking all of the man's fingers - and given him two black eyes with a hearty "Welcome to Australia, mate."  
  
And now Kenny looked like he was thinking. Looked like he was up to something. Ali could practically see the gears spinning in his head.  
  
"What's her name again?" Kenny asked.  
  
"Charlie Audley." Ali made the business card float over.  
  
"OK. Lemme see... what I can do." Kenny got up and walked off to the study. "I gotta make some phone calls."  
  
  
_  
  
  
Four hours later, when Ali was taking a nap, Kenny gently shook her awake.  
  
"Huh?" Ali sat up, groggy.  
  
"OK, I have some... news," Kenny said, rubbing his hands together.  
  
Ali waited for it.  
  
"I talked to my brother Mike," Kenny said. Michael Kim was back in the States and worked in IT, specifically security - he was literally paid to hack and tell companies and agencies the weaknesses in their coding that could be exploited. "He did a little research for me."  
  
"Did he now."  
  
"A certain Cassius Anthony Wyatt-Jones and a Lady Clarissa Catherine Talbot Audley are both employees of MI6," Kenny said. "Anthony Wyatt-Jones is also technically a _Captain_ Anthony Wyatt-Jones, he was in the SBS until 2015. Distinguished service record, he's a Gulf War vet, he's been decorated, blah blah blah."  
  
Ali's jaw dropped. Her suspicion that at least a portion of Apollyon Enterprises was contracted by some Commonwealth government was confirmed. "How much trouble are we in for finding this out."  
  
"Probably a lot," Kenny said, laughing. "Anyway, I assume that between Wyatt-Jones and Audley, you'd rather tangle with Audley..."  
  
Ali nodded. SBS-trained soldier who very likely had the same sort of gifts she had... she'd rather take her chances with Charlie.  
  
"So," Kenny went on, "if you want to go find Charlie Audley, and I'm not saying you should... of course, the home address she has on file is fake. But she works at the MI6 headquarters in London. Mike says, if you really want to go this route, he can hack into the driving database and tell you her plate number so you can use a drone to find her car and, like..."  
  
"Stalk her?"  
  
"Well, that's a really uncomfortable way of putting it, but..."  
  
"But it's stalking her." Ali nodded.  
  
"Yeah." Kenny cringed.  
  
Ali also cringed. "Jesus."  
  
Kenny got up to make coffee, and when he came back he and Ali just sat on the couch in silence for a little while, drinking coffee, taking it all in.  
  
"So Mike's really on board with helping if I go through with this," Ali said. "Like... he knows I'm probably going to open a can of whoop-arse and if I get in trouble, he's potentially going to get up shit's creek as a collaborator..."  
  
Kenny nodded solemnly. "Mike lives for this kind of shit. He hasn't hacked the motor vehicles database yet but he will when I give the word, and he knows where we can get a drone within a matter of hours, he'll walk you through programming the drone to spot her plates."  
  
"OK." Ali rubbed her dreadlocks, feeling the weight of everything all at once.  
  
"I don't think I need to tell you that what you're about to do is super illegal - hell, already what we've done is super illegal."  
  
"No, you don't. And it is."  
  
"And I won't lie to you - I'm worried about you getting caught, especially with our two kids."  
  
"Yeh, no shit." Ali scowled - it would be particularly bad since she was the primary breadwinner. Not to mention that the kids would already face enough racism in their lifetime without their peers mocking them that their Aboriginal mother was in jail. Or suffer the effects of her being gone for however long...  
  
"If I were a better partner, better father, better _person_ , maybe I should try to talk you out of the idea of going off to England to go kick some MI6 agent's ass to try to get info out of them. But, I get that this is your family, and that's important to you, so I'll support your decision either way." Kenny gave a small, sad smile. "What's important to you is important to me - your family is my family too. I wouldn't have asked Mike for help if that wasn't the case."  
  
"I appreciate it." Ali rubbed and patted his knee. "I have a lot to think on. Like, do the benefits outweigh the risks. Someone I'm pretty sure is my cousin, who I'd never met until last week, potentially going to jail to try to help them, when I have my other family, my partner and kids right here. Worst case scenario I'll go to jail or... MI6 will make me an unperson, make me disappear or something. Best case scenario, I'll have a new cousin to fuss over but also probably get sacked from Apollyon Enterprises and have to get another job -"  
  
"To be honest, I'd be happier if you had a job where you don't have to leave on a moment's notice to be gone days at a time. I haven't wanted to complain because it pays well and I don't want to tell you what to do, but -"  
  
Ali put up a hand. "No, Kenny, you should have said something before now." She sighed and ran her hands through her locks. "When I get back from this fiasco... well, if I get back... we'll give some time for the dust to settle and I'll look for another job."  
  
"Doesn't have to be immediate. I mean, we're still going to the States for Christmas to see my family and all."  
  
"Oh god." Ali rubbed her face. "It's that soon, yeah?"  
  
Kenny nodded.  
  
"Which is the other thing... the holidays are coming... I could _feel_ how scared he was. How utterly _defeated_ and _soul-tired_ he is. If I could manage to see him before the holidays..." Ali's jaw trembled and her eyes teared up.  
  
Kenny pulled Ali into a hug. He kissed the top of her head, then her forehead, then gave her a little peck.  
  
"It's a lot to think about," Kenny said.  
  
"Yeh. It would help if I had, like, a second opinion." Ali sat for a minute and drank her tea, considering.  
  
Then it came to her. Her cell phone floated into her hand, and she dialed her father's number. One ring, two, three... _Come on, Da, pick up the damn phone._  
  
"Hello?" came her father's voice.  
  
"Hi Da."  
  
"Possum! What's going on?"  
  
Ali looked at Kenny and then she said, "When the kids get out of school we're coming to see you in Ceduna."  
  
"What for?" Then Böðvar Jónsson chuckled. "Not that I mind, you and Kenny and the kids are welcome anytime, it's just not every day you spontaneously want to come out -"  
  
"I need a change of perspective." That wasn't a lie. "I'll explain more when I get there."  
  
"O-OK. Well, safe journey, Possum."


	36. Courage

**Courage**

  
  
  
It was an eight and a half hour drive from Adelaide to Ceduna, and late when they arrived at Böðvar Jónsson's sheep farm on the night of Wednesday, December sixteenth. Metallica and Megadeth had already fallen asleep, and were put right to bed. Ali was exhausted but also too hyped up on adrenaline to go to sleep, as she'd spent the drive up weighing the decision back and forth in her mind, playing various outcomes in her head. Finally Ali's Aboriginal mother, Medika, made her a cup of chamomile tea and tucked her and Kenny in like Medika used to do when Ali was small, and Ali got a few hours of sleep before she heard her father going outside at dawn on Thursday morning, accompanied by his sheepdog, Auli.  
  
Ali washed up, changed her clothes, and went outside, watching from a distance as the sheep grazed with Böðvar and Auli supervising. At last Böðvar sensed he was being watched, and gestured for Ali to come closer. He put an arm around his daughter.  
  
Böðvar Jónsson was tall, of a formerly pale complexion that had been weatherbeaten by the Australian sun, and he had the strong, muscular build of someone who did hard physical labor daily for years, usually clad in jeans and a T-shirt, with a bandana around his neck or forehead. He had grey eyes like Ali's, black hair to the middle of his back that he usually wore tied back in a low ponytail, and a long black beard, both of which had begun to silver - in his younger years he had been boyish or even pretty in an androgynous way if he didn't have facial hair, hence why he grew the beard, and he was very proud of it, braiding both his hair and beard on special occasions. Ali always thought her father looked like a Viking warrior, especially when he went riding on his Harley-Davidson motorbike on the weekends, something he'd instilled an appreciation of in Ali - she missed motorcycling. Böðvar's voice was gruff but pleasant, the voice of a man who kept to himself but would also give you the shirt off his back if you needed it.  
  
He and Medika Rogers made an interesting contrast - Medika was short, plump, curly black hair growing out in an 'afro' that now had touches of grey, coal-black skin with a gleaming white smile that lit up her entire face. Medika looked soft and motherly, and she was soft-spoken and gentle, but Ali knew her mother could be a force to be reckoned with. Ali never forgot the day Medika threatened one of her brother's gangbanger friends...  
  
"So a change of perspective, huh?" Böðvar asked.  
  
Ali nodded. "It's peaceful out here." She smiled at the pink-orange-red-gold dawn, washing the sheep a pale cream yellow. "And you and Mum are pretty no-nonsense, no-bullshit, common sense people. I could use some advice right about now."  
  
"Oh shit, Possum, if you're asking for advice it must be bad." Böðvar's brow furrowed and he narrowed his eyes. "You and Kenny all right?"  
  
"Yeh."  
  
"The kids OK? Are they in trouble?"  
  
"No trouble... no, all of that is fine, Da. It's something else."  
  
"Hm." Böðvar looked back out at the sheep. "Jæja, you came to the right place, I guess. This is my own little piece of heaven, right here, out in the middle of nowhere. Animals are much easier to deal with than people. 'Course, younger me would have never seen myself as a sheep farmer. I could have had the family farm back in Iceland, you know, but I thumbed my nose at that. Then by the time I thought seriously about maybe taking it after all, I had to leave."  
  
"Had to... leave?" Ali folded her arms. She raised an eyebrow at her father. "Why _did_ you leave Iceland, anyway? You never told me about that."  
  
"It's kind of a long story."  
  
"Well, I'll trade you one long story for another."  
  
They went inside. Böðvar and Medika lived in a ranch-style house, all one floor, with four bedrooms and one bathroom, an open-plan living room and kitchen area that was always clean but a bit cluttered, between Böðvar's books and Medika's sewing and knitting projects. They had the same couch that Ali remembered sitting on as a child, with the same throw "of many colors" that Ali had asked her mum to make after the story of Joseph before Böðvar had caught wind of a neighbor proselytizing to a "heathen" Aboriginal child. The throw still had happy memories, and brightened up the house, which was mostly done in browns and greens with touches of grey.  
  
Medika made tea, and Ali sat down to tea with her parents for the first time in what felt like ages. They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes, Böðvar watching the sheep out the window as the sunrise faded to blue sky, with Auli laying at his feet.  
  
"So," Böðvar said, "I have two older sisters. One of them is dead now. A year before Brynhildur died, she told me and Birgitta to leave Iceland for our own good."  
  
"...Why?" Ali asked.  
  
"She and her husband Sigurd were being attacked."  
  
"By what... who..."  
  
"Odin."  
  
Ali's laughter rang out despite herself. "Odin? The Norse fucking god, Odin?"  
  
"Jæja, I know it sounds crazy, and I would have thought it crazy myself, but..." Böðvar lifted his tea mug without touching it, floating up to take a sip before it sat back down on the tray. "There were a lot of coincidences that started to look like not coincidences all piled together. Gitta and I were having nightmares about the one-eyed old bastard, knowing fuckall was going on with our sister, or with each other. When Brynhildur told us, and Gitta said she'd been having nightmares, I was... a little terrified of the confirmation. Going mad would have been better, yanno? And Brynhildur... she was seeing shit like... people getting into accidents around her, she and her husband narrowly avoiding accidents. Sigurd died real young, coroner said stroke but he was in perfect health. So Gitta took off for Scotland and I took off for Australia, 'cos I wanted to be as far away from any Nordic country as I could - where the Aesir influence and power is the strongest, yanno - and still be on planet Earth."  
  
"I don't get it." Ali had chills. "What the bloody hell would Odin want with our family? Why us?"  
  
"That I don't know. All I know is, Brynhildur was on Odin's shit list and she's dead now. And when you were born, and your brothers..." Böðvar looked at Medika.  
  
"We had one of the shamans come out," Medika said, "and do a protective ritual over each of you, so spirits couldn't find you." She gestured to the window where the sheep were grazing. "We had this entire land warded."  
  
Now Kenny was coming out. Ali floated over a cup of tea. Ali could tell Kenny was slightly uncomfortable - he came from a lineage of Korean shamans and though he couldn't deny his own power, he was still a skeptical agnostic and talk of things like spirits and magic made him feel weird.  
  
"And recently you asked me about Brynhildur's kids," Böðvar said, looking into his daughter's eyes. "Something's going on with them, isn't it."  
  
Ali rubbed her face. "Where do I even begin."  
  
"Begin at the beginning," Böðvar said.  
  
"OK." Ali nodded. She finished her tea and leaned back in her chair. "So, Dagnýr Sigurdsson is a somewhat famous scientist, and he went missing recently. Like, it's been on the news and stuff. One of my jobs recently was to haul three people from Alice Springs to Sydney. I am about 99% positive one of those people was Sören."  
  
"When you say haul, you mean..."  
  
"I mean it was an assignment that I'm not supposed to tell anybody about, of course now I'm telling you, and... and Kenny knows. I wasn't even allowed to know my passengers' names, or to tell them my real name, and we weren't allowed to interact much. I don't even know if Sören is staying in Sydney or if that's just a temporary stop to wherever he's going. All I know is there was a whole shitload of secrecy and rules surrounding this assignment, my employer clearly thought it was safer for Sören and his companions to be driven to Sydney instead of flown, even though flying would have taken less time. It's a hunch, but this is connected to Dagnýr's disappearance in some way. Like they're trying to keep him from going the same way."  
  
"When you say they... I mean, Apollyon Enterprises is just a business, right?" Böðvar frowned.  
  
"That's what I thought, but my boss's boss is an MI6 agent... and his boss is an MI6 agent. I guess they contract Apollyon Enterprises for some services, like transport, where they don't want to attract a lot of attention."  
  
"Makes sense."  
  
"But now..." Ali gave a nervous laugh. "I didn't know when I was driving him across Australia, that this was my cousin. And of course, he didn't know about me. I only made the connection when I saw Dagnýr on the news and his two baby daughters, who look just like the babies Sören had with him. I know a lot of people say babies all look alike, but no, I'm a mother, I can tell. And I could _feel_ how scared Sören was. He was trying to put on a brave face and keep chipper on the trip, but there was just..." Ali's eyes burned with tears. "So much fear. So much _hopelenessness_. The feeling like he'd lost everything. I really wanted to give him a hug, even before I knew who he was, and of course I couldn't because protocol. But now, I know my cousin is out there somewhere and he left his sketchbook in my truck by accident and I want to return it to him, and not just return that, but give him back some of his hope, maybe. That he has family. And the MI6 agents over me won't give me his contact info."  
  
"Well, no, if they don't know that you're related to him, it probably looks really bad," Böðvar said. "Like you got obsessed with him -"  
  
"Yeh, I guess."  
  
"Do you think you should tell them you're his cousin and see if they might give you the info then?" Medika asked.  
  
Ali shrugged. "I don't know if that would make them give it to me, or if it might complicate things even further. Like forcing us into hiding, or... or something. And it sounds really fishy to say 'oh yeh, I think this is my cousin because the babies in his custody look like these other babies I saw on telly and my intuition went off and...' I don't want to disclose that to them until I have Sören's contact information securely in my hand, because at least then if they haul us off somewhere I know where and how I can get to him."  
  
"That's fair," Medika said.  
  
"Jeez," Böðvar said. "Makes you wonder what happened to Dagnýr. Why he disappeared and all that."  
  
Ali nodded. "It does."  
  
"So..." Böðvar cocked his head to one side, and so did Auli, which made Ali snort and Kenny chuckle. Böðvar's affinity for animals and especially his dog was a source of continual amusement when Ali was growing up, and she found it comforting and familiar now. "You're wanting to find your cousin."  
  
Ali nodded. She leaned forward, folded her hands between her knees, and looked down. She felt the gravity of the situation again, like her entire life had been leading up to this point in time, and she needed to choose carefully. "I am possibly about to do something very, very illegal." She looked up at Böðvar, then at Medika.  
  
Medika pursed her lips. "You know your brother Craig just got out of prison," she said. Craig was the second of Ali's siblings, younger than her by two years. Craig had fallen in with a bad crowd and gotten busted for dealing drugs. "And Tom has another five years..." Tom was the next-to-youngest; he'd stabbed someone.  
  
"Yeh, I know. I... know... you don't want more of your kids going to jail." Ali rubbed her face, feeling a twinge of guilt.  
  
"Craig's trying to get his life together," Böðvar said. "He's gonna come help me run the farm now that I'm getting old and have the arthritis. He's working out some things with his kids' mum, custodial arrangements and such..."  
  
"Yeh, that's good." Ali smiled a little. She hoped she could see Craig some next year.  
  
"So what is it that you're fixing to do that's illegal?" Medika frowned.  
  
"The MI6 agents I've talked to are being uncooperative," Ali said, "and I think I need to go rough one of them up some."  
  
"Which means what, going to England?" Böðvar asked, raising an eyebrow.  
  
Ali nodded. "Flying there on short notice is gonna be expensive, but we have emergency funds -"  
  
"That's if you don't get stopped right at Heathrow or wherever you're flying in," Kenny spoke up. "You've already gotten on their bad side, they probably have you on a list or something to be brought in the minute you touch down."  
  
"Fuck. Yeh, you're right." Ali hung her head again. "Shit."  
  
"Well..." Medika sighed. "You wouldn't necessarily have to _fly._ "  
  
"What, go by boat?" Ali snorted. "You know how long that would take -"  
  
"No." Medika shook her head. She waved her hand and poured herself more tea, the teapot floating off the tray and pouring by itself into a mug. "Go to Uluru."  
  
"What." Ali's eyes widened. She felt a frisson down her spine, even as she herself didn't know what to make of her mother's family's beliefs.  
  
"There are legends... my grandmother told me that Uluru is a gate to other places, both here on Earth and elsewhere."  
  
"So you want me to go all the way to bloody Uluru based on hearsay. Does anyone you _personally_ know have experience with using Uluru as... a gate." Ali both wanted desperately to believe she had a better way of getting to England, and also didn't want to go any further down the path of weirdness than her abilities, and the revelation that she had likely not been bothered by the Norse gods in the way her father's sister was bothered - and probably her cousins - because of protections given through Aboriginal shamanic magic.  
  
"My uncle Nat," Medika said, nodding solemnly.  
  
"The one who's been in and out of the mental hospitals."  
  
"What do you think put him in there?"  
  
"Oh great, that's _totally_ a vote of fucking bloody confidence to use Uluru as... as... some kind of portal..." Ali was almost wishing she hadn't come to Ceduna, even though she loved her parents and it was nice to see them again.  
  
"He went through the gate by accident, and he had... help... getting back, I guess you could call it. But a lot of people didn't believe him. You wouldn't be going by accident. You tell the gate you want to go to England and it'll take you. Then wherever you end up, you use the same gate to take you home."  
  
"I... I don't know, Mum. That is crazy fucking shit -"  
  
"You're already about to do crazy fucking shit, Possum," Böðvar said with a wicked grin. "Talking about beating up an MI6 agent to get contact information for your cousin, instead of just saying 'hey I think this person is a relative, can you help me out'..."  
  
"Well, now's your chance to talk me out of it," Ali said. "I came all this way to get a second opinion."  
  
"Alinta, love, I think your mind's already made up," Böðvar said, and Medika nodded.  
  
"You want moral support," Medika said.  
  
"And, it really broke my heart that Sigurd's sister and her husband didn't want me to have nothing to do with my nephews because I married a black lady," Böðvar said. "It would be nice to get to know my late sister's kids, or at least one of them."  
  
"I'm scared shitless," Ali said. "I mean, I've gotten physical with people before... I've done crazy stunts before. But this is the mother of all crazy shit I've ever done and I..." Ali started to cry. "I need strength. I need courage. I'm so afraid, I feel like such a bloody coward..."  
  
"Oh, no, Possum, you're not a coward at all," Böðvar said. "Courage isn't the absence of fear... it's feeling the fear and fighting anyway."  
  
"And courage is having convictions... loyalty to your people, your family... not to leave any behind, lost to the darkness." Medika nodded, and reached out to squeeze her daughter's hands.  
  
"I'm gonna think on it some more," Ali said finally.  
  
Ali spent the day helping her father with chores around the farm, and Metallica and Megadeth were given a tour, and attempted to count all the sheep. They also asked Böðvar a lot of questions. "Do they have names? How old are they? Have you ever seen the Big Bad Wolf?"  
  
In the evening, just before sundown, Ali went on a quick bike ride with her father, reflecting on all she'd been told that morning. And then, as they rode into the blazing red sunset, Ali had a moment of realization that sent chills down her spine, despite the heat.  
  
 _Does anyone you_ personally _know have experience with using Uluru as... a gate,_ Ali had asked her mother.  
  
Ali's eyes widened. _That's why I had to pick up Sören and those two guys at Alice Springs._ That's _how they got here from wherever it is they came from._  
  
Ali threw her head back and laughed. "Fuck."  
  
"What's so funny, Possum?"  
  
"Life. The universe. And everything."  
  
  
_  
  
  
Ali drove Kenny and the kids back to Adelaide on Friday, and then she got right back on the road, a sixteen-hour drive from Adelaide to Uluru that she broke up into two eight-hour shifts, arriving late Sunday afternoon.  
  
Ali was armed with the license plate number of Charlie Audley, a drone delivered by a drone that Mike walked her through programming over video chat, and a backpack with some essentials, including changes of clothing for the English winter. Her plan was to park when she got to Uluru, make the three-hour trek to the rock, hopefully get everything done within twenty-four hours, and after her business was done in England and she gated back - provided she wouldn't be arrested right then and there - she would hike three hours back to her car, drive to Alice Springs, and fly to Adelaide from Alice Springs and have her vehicle towed home. Flying within Australia seemed less risky than trying to fly to England, and if she was going to get arrested once she was back in Australia, she'd rather it be at home instead of on the road.  
  
Just the same, she was hoping she wouldn't get arrested.  
  
She was having her doubts about this for more reasons than just getting arrested as she hiked to the rock. She didn't know where the bloody gate was, or how to find it...  
  
 _Don't see with your eyes. See with your mind. See with your spirit._  
  
Ali wiped sweat from her brow, took a few deep breaths, and closed her eyes. She felt the ground thrumming, and a few steps away it felt like the temperature was a couple of degrees warmer. She walked in that direction and the thrumming intensified. She opened her eyes and saw the rock shimmering up ahead, at first she thought it was heat haze, but as she came closer she saw there was a portion where it looked like there was mist or fog - which couldn't be possible considering how hot and dry it was today... and it was glowing. Ali began to walk faster, and the glow intensified.  
  
When she came within meters of it, it was as if there was a hollowed out space inside the rock, through the mists. Ali's heart began to race, chills down her spine again. She was this close to losing her nerve - _what if I get lost? what if I get in trouble?_ \- and with a roaring battle cry, she made herself run into the glowing fog, into the hollow. All of a sudden it felt like she had stepped into an elevator-furnace and she was being hurtled down, down, down, like an amusement park ride but far faster, far more nauseating. Ali almost fell over. Her knees shook, her stomach lurched, head spinning. _Focus. Focus._  
  
"I'm going to England," she began to chant under her breath. "Going to England, going to England, going to England..."  
  
And a few seconds later she was thrown, faceplanting in the snow. The lingering heat of the Australian outback in summer and the heat inside the gate quickly faded as light snow fell around Ali. She had to work fast, pulling on a sweater over her T-shirt and then long trousers over her shorts, then a trenchcoat, knit hat and gloves. Ali's breath steamed the air as she rubbed her gloved hands together. She took a few steps forward and looked back at where she'd just arrived, a chambered barrow of some kind, that looked beautiful in a melancholy way with the snow.  
  
She made her cell phone float into her hand and the GPS informed her she was at Wayland's Smithy. Google Maps informed her she was less than two hours away from London. She was also informed that Uluru was nine hours and thirty minutes ahead of London - it was still Sunday morning here. A grey, snowy morning.  
  
She called an Uber, and braced herself to wait for a bit in the snow, a big temperature shock after the heat of the outback. She'd get some rest at a hotel, and then on Monday...  
  
"Let the games begin," Ali muttered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _"And courage is having convictions... loyalty to your people, your family... not to leave any behind, lost to the darkness." Medika nodded, and reached out to squeeze her daughter's hands._
> 
> is paraphrased from a quote in Spiced_Wine's [_The Once and Future Kings_ chapter 10](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18693037/chapters/48669995): _‘I do agree, father, that there is more to being royal than an insignia,’ he said, pitching his voice to carry. ‘Courage, the courage of one’s own convictions, loyalty to one’s people, is another, I think. Not to leave any behind, lost to the dark.’_


	37. Thorn In the Side

**Thorn In the Side**

  
  
  
On the morning of Monday, December twentieth, Ali woke up ready for action. Though the holidays were imminent, she also knew that terrorist threats and other dangers happened year-round, and Charlie Audley was very likely going to work at MI6 today.  
  
There were a few different parking garages within vicinity of the MI6 building, and from a few meters away Ali had the drone fly in and look for a match of Charlie's plates. Nothing came up at first, so Ali decided she would try back a couple of hours later, in case Charlie went into work later. Her heart pounded as she sat in a coffee shop, drinking an espresso, trying to look and act casual, wondering if she was already under surveillance.  
  
When she made her second attempt at looking for Charlie Audley's car, she got a match. Unfortunately there was an attendant at the parking garage, who operated a fence to let cars in or out - Ali couldn't scale the fence without a problem, which meant Ali was going to have to do one of the things she didn't like doing.  
  
"Hi," Ali said to the attendant in his booth.  
  
"Hi." The attendant scowled. "You can't come in here -"  
  
Ali pushed with her mind. "You're going to let me in."  
  
The attnendant pressed a button and the gate opened. "I'm going to let you in."  
  
"You're just minding your own business. You won't try to follow me inside."  
  
"I'm just minding my own business. I won't try to follow you inside."  
  
Not only did Ali hate doing this for ethical reasons, but it always gave her a slight headache. More than slight today, as hopped up on adrenaline as she was. That said, if she had been able to use the ability long-distance, she would have pushed Charlie over the phone and gotten the information that way rather than going to all this ridiculous trouble; Ali still couldn't quite believe she was doing any of this. But here she was.  
  
Ali dashed inside the parking garage and looked around at the numbers and letters to figure out what level and row Charlie's Bentley was parked in. She had to go up to the second level, and then she had a bit of a walk. She kept looking over her shoulder and trying to feel around her to see if she was being watched or followed.  
  
At last, in row M, there it was, a cobalt blue Bentley 4-door with the exact license plate number Mike had given her. Ali checked her watch. She was going to have a bit of a wait. On the other hand, there was a baby blue microfiber blanket in the back seat, which made Ali's job a little easier.  
  
Ali took a deep breath and then she held out her hand in front of the right-hand back door, and looked inside the car at the controls at the driver's seat; the locks were controlled from there. She gave another push with her mind, pushing pushing _pushing_ until she heard the _pop_ she was waiting for. She opened the back door, climbed inside, and huddled under the blanket.  
  
 _Now I wait._  
  
The hours passed, and Ali felt like she was going out of her mind with the combined boredom and adrenaline, but at least Ali was warm. She tried to ignore restless legs, the urge to pee, moving only to check the time and roll her eyes. She hoped this wasn't going to be an incident of Charlie leaving her car at the garage and taking a cab home or going home some other way, like a holiday party at the MI6 office. She also hoped that Charlie hadn't been tipped off that the motor vehicles database and the MI6 personnel database had recently been hacked, that the car was left here as some sort of trap.  
  
Ali waited and waited, her restlessness increasing as well as her anxiety. Cars came and left. Every time the odd person approached, she braced herself, but it was always someone else for another car. Finally she heard steps _thock_ in the parking garage, coming closer and closer, and then the steps were _right there._ Ali heard the driver's seat open, and a tall, slim woman with pixie-cut sandy blonde hair in a charcoal grey pantsuit under a black wool trenchcoat got in.  
  
The woman yawned. "Bugger me, I can't wait to get home and have a fucking hot bath."  
  
That was definitely Charlie Audley's voice. Ali's heart hammered in her ears.  
  
Charlie began to drive, and Ali's heart continued to pound. She made herself hold very, very still, almost holding her breath. Several minutes into the trip Ali's nose began to itch, and Ali could feel a sneeze coming on, which she desperately fought - one sneeze could ruin the entire operation. The urge built and built and Ali fought it back and it finally passed; Ali breathed.  
  
The car began to move faster, like Charlie was on the highway. Ali had driven on highways more times than she could count, she was no stranger to high speed, but she was used to being upright for it, rather than laying down on her side. She could feel everything more sharply, the hurtling forward almost flying, each curve of the road. Ali knew that her senses were being heightened by her anxiety, too - she was shaking now, and hoped that the blanket wasn't quivering along with her.  
  
At last Charlie slowed, and Ali felt the car pulling in. When Charlie came to a full stop, Ali held her breath again, waitingwaiting _waiting_. It had to be exactly the right moment and not a second sooner...  
  
Charlie turned off the ignition, pulled her keys out, and got out of the car. Ali threw off the blanket and opened up the back car door, her hand in her right pocket. Charlie froze at the sound of the back door opening, her hand reaching for her holster just as Ali produced the very illegal taser bolt she owned, and always brought with her on the road. Ali shot the taser bolt at Charlie's back and five seconds of electricity shocked through the Englishwoman. Ali winced as Charlie screamed, falling down on the pavement as her body convulsed.  
  
Ali waved her hand and pulled Charlie's pistol out of its holster, taking it when it floated over to her. Already, Charlie was struggling to break free of the lock on her muscles. Ali knelt on Charlie and floated the keys over to the door. Ali had to try a few different keys before she found the one that worked, opening the front door. Ali got up, took a deep breath, got up off Charlie and picked Charlie up, carrying her inside.  
  
Past the foyer there was an open plan living room and kitchen area, the home very modern and sleek, white walls, black furniture, dark hardwood floors. There was a large panoramic window that gave a view of the Thames riverfront. Ali's eyes searched the room and she saw a glass-topped coffee table in front of a black leather couch, with paperwork scattered on the tabletop. At the bar, there was a laptop computer, with binders and file folders behind the laptop, some more paperwork beside the laptop, a coffee thermos and an empty shot glass with the remnants of what looked like whisky. The place was otherwise neat and clean and looked barely lived in. Ali looked around for something like a desk chair or a dining chair, something with a back and lower to the floor than the barstools were. When she found what she was looking for - one of two chairs at a small glass-topped dining table - she waved her hand and the chair came over. Normally Ali would be reserved and not use telekinesis in front of a stranger, but she had a feeling Charlie probably knew Anthony was special...  
  
Just before Ali sat Charlie down in the chair, she floated up the contents of her left coat pocket - two lengths of rope. Once Ali had Charlie in the chair, she pinned Charlie's wrists behind her back and used her mind to quickly wrap the rope around Charlie's wrists to tie her to the chair, and the other length to bind Charlie's ankles to the chair.  
  
When she was sure the knots were secure enough - she watched Charlie struggle, not able to get free - Ali wiped sweat from her brow.  
  
"My wallet's in my left coat pocket," Charlie told her, "and there's a hollowed-out book on the shelf under the coffee table with some stacks of emergency cash. Please, just take it and go -"  
  
Ali's eyes widened. She was vaguely offended, wondering if Charlie would have the same reaction if her looks favored her Icelandic father rather than her Aboriginal mother... and then she started laughing with disbelief. "Wow, you really run a shoddy operation if you didn't even check to see what I look like, do you? Or do all black folks look alike to you?"  
  
Charlie blinked; Ali could feel Charlie's sudden shock of recognition at the voice. "Oh shit."  
  
"Yeh, oh shit is right." Ali folded her arms.  
  
"Ms. Jonsson, you have made a terrible, terrible mistake and you are about to enter a world of pain -"  
  
" _You_ are not in a position to threaten _me_ right now." Ali shook her head. "But I really didn't want to have to resort to this." Ali looked at the kitchen. "Tea?"  
  
Charlie blinked again - Ali could tell Charlie wasn't expecting that sort of courtesy. Ali just walked into the kitchen, quickly found where the tea was located, and started making tea, keeping an eye on Charlie. When the tea was hot and ready, Ali called over to her, "How do you take your tea, ma'am?"  
  
"Two sugars," then under her breath Charlie muttered, "what the fuck."  
  
Ali fixed a mug of tea for each of them, floated Charlie's cup over to her, and worked the cup to and from Charlie's mouth with her mind. Then Ali waved at the other chair at the dining table and it floated over, to land in front of Charlie's chair. Ali floated her own mug of tea into her hands after she sat down.  
  
"Now then," Ali said, "we can do this the hard way or the easy way."  
  
Charlie gave her a filthy look. "We're not doing anything -"  
  
Ali slapped Charlie without touching her. Then Ali had a sip of tea and leaned back, pursing her lips. "Like I _said_ , Ms. Audley. We can do this the hard way or the easy way."  
  
"And what exactly is it that you're here for? Please don't tell me you came _all_ this way and went to _so_ much trouble just because of that Protocol Delta assignment."  
  
"Well, that is in fact what I'm here for, ma'am. You're going to give me Sören Sigurdsson's phone number and address -"  
  
"Wait. _How do you know that name._ You were under orders not to get names from them, not to give your own."  
  
"I followed those orders to the letter, but I do know that name, yes. And you're going to stop interrupting me." Ali slapped Charlie without touching her again. "Next time I'll tase you again, so do as you're told." Ali cleared her throat. " _As I was saying._ The easy way is this: I walk out of here with Sören Sigurdsson's real, actual phone number and address - not some fake shit, but the real article... and you'll forget this incident ever happened, and I'll go back to my little life in Adelaide and leave you alone, and you'll leave me alone, no police, no making me disappear, none of that."  
  
"And the hard way?"  
  
"If you dig in your heels and you refuse to give me any information... or you give me fake information to get me out of here... or you pretend to agree to my terms and then the police roll up or I've suddenly got other problems... well, I have some insurance." Ali stood up, and with her mind she pulled out another item she'd been keeping in her coat pocket - a 10 terabyte hard drive. She clicked the mouse of Charlie's laptop computer and was relieved to see that it was on, just in sleep mode while not in use. Ali began to poke around different folders and files and it all looked like top-secret MI6 information that could be very bad in the wrong hands. She plugged her 10TB drive into the laptop's USB port and began copying all the files.  
  
"What are you doing?" Charlie asked. "You can't -"  
  
"I can, and I am. All that is going on WikiLeaks if you're not going to play nice with me." With that, Ali sat back down. "I'm sure WikiLeaks would find at least _some_ of that very, very, very interesting."  
  
Charlie had a look of genuine _fear_ on her face, and even if she had kept her expression perfectly neutral, Ali could _feel_ the terror emanating from her. It wasn't "some" of those files that would be of interest to WikiLeaks, it was most if not all of them. Ali poked Charlie's mind just a little deeper and got the mental image of surveillance, videos and photos inspected of people gifted in the way that she was, monitored around the world. A memory of Charlie's bobbed to the surface, Charlie and a thirtysomething handsome dark-haired white bloke in a grey room with a one-way mirror that looked like a police interrogation room but wasn't.  
  
 _You see, Anthony... I work for a section of MI6 that technically, on the books, does not exist. But we do exist, and the purpose of our existence is to protect people like you... and protect the population_ from _people like you. Having someone with your set of gifts get captured by an enemy state and put to work for them... well, that could be very bad. And the general populace can't handle the truth that a small segment of humanity can do what you do, and there are some... weird, paranormal things in our world even beyond that. It would create mass civil unrest, the like of which we have never seen before and are not prepared to handle._  
  
"Are you going to play nice with me, Ms. Audley, or does WikiLeaks get to know all about the true nature of existence of people like myself and Anthony Wyatt-Jones?" Ali raised an eyebrow.  
  
Charlie's mouth opened slightly and a strangled noise came out.  
  
"Yes, I could pry Sören's info out of your head, but that would be rude and I'd just get a migraine headache. I'd rather you tell me." Ali floated over a pen and a blank sheet of paper. "Now, please."  
  
Charlie swallowed hard. "You really mean business."  
  
"I really do indeed mean business, Ms. Audley. His information, or your department getting a big fucking spotlight on it."  
  
"You understand, then, that Sören is one of the people we're protecting, and giving this information to a random stranger rather goes against those interests. But you're not a random stranger, are you?" Charlie raised an eyebrow. "You're somehow in connection with the disappearance of Dagnýr Sigurdsson, yes?" Charlie frowned. "You're good. Who do you work for? CIA? IRA? Mossad? SVR? Are you a mercenary?"  
  
 _Oh Jesus._ Ali had assumed that either MI6 had done a background check on her and saw her father was Sören's mother's brother and thus Charlie and Anthony already knew the familial relationship and were just being obstinate, _or_ they hadn't bothered to do the full checkup and didn't know, and Ali didn't want to tell them just yet in case that meant she would suddenly be relocated or something else of that nature. But now, she could see that from Charlie's point of view, things looked really, really bad. Of _course_ there hadn't been a background check with family history beyond maybe who her parents were and what they did for a living, of course a connection hadn't been made, because Ali was black, half-Aboriginal, and Sören was white. And with Icelanders having patronymics instead of surnames, the connection between a Böðvar Jónsson and a Brynhildur Jónsdóttir wouldn't be immediately obvious. Not knowing of the familial connection, it was naturally Charlie's first conclusion to assume Ali worked with whoever was responsible for Dagnýr's disappearance, and that Ali wanted to find Sören for nefarious purposes.  
  
So as much as Ali didn't want to confess, the time was here.  
  
Ali sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "I work for myself." She met Charlie's eyes. "Sören Sigurdsson is my cousin, his mother is my father's sister. Up until very recently, I didn't know who he was, and he probably has no idea who I am, may not even know his uncle had kids." She rocked back on her heels and folded her arms. "I'm not looking to do anything bad. I just want to take back the item he lost, in person, let him know he has family in Australia. He could use that information right about now, after the disappearance of his brother and all."  
  
Charlie looked down. She licked her lips - Ali could feel she was still nervous, taking it all in, trying to evaluate whether or not she was being told the truth - and finally Charlie looked back at her, their eyes locking once more.  
  
"I believe you," Charlie said.  
  
"If I'd told you all that over the phone, would you have believed me?"  
  
"Probably not. It's easier to lie over the phone, tells of body language can be lost."  
  
Ali nodded. "Just give me the information I'm after and I'll be on my way, Ms. Audley."  
  
Charlie took a deep breath. Ali readied the pen and paper. Charlie began to recite a cell phone number, followed by a street address in Sydney.  
  
"Now," Ali said, "to make sure you're not full of shit." Ali poked with her mind to see where Charlie's cell phone was, and then she pulled it from Charlie's coat. She dialed Sören's number into the phone.  
  
It rang three times and a dark, smoky voice answered. "Jæja?"  
  
Ali hit End, satisfied. She wanted Sören's number for reasons, but it would be easier to return the sketchbook in person, rather than taking the risk of being rejected over the phone, shaken and paranoid as Sören was.  
  
Ali called an Uber from her own cell phone - Charlie supplied the pickup address - and got ready to go, collecting the 10TB hard drive from the USB port when all the files were copied. When her cab arrived, beeping outside, Ali said, "Now I mean it. You send the cops after me, your shit goes on WikiLeaks. Leave me alone. Deal?"  
  
"Deal," Charlie said.  
  
Ali still didn't entirely trust her. She returned Charlie's pistol - out of reach just yet, on the coffee table - and then she began to back towards the door. With a flick of her wrist, the ropes untied from Charlie's wrists and ankles, setting her free, but to give herself a head start, as Charlie got up Ali tased her again, in the legs.  
  
"FUCK," Charlie yelped as she toppled over. "SODDING BLOODY KNACKERS SHIT BOLLOCKS FUCKING _HELL_..."  
  
"At least you didn't step on a Lego," Ali snarked as she walked out, shutting the door behind her. Then she made a run for the cab parked in the driveway, quickly ducking into the passenger seat. "Hi," she said, as casual as could please.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The memory of Charlie in the interrogation room telling Anthony about the "Department That Doesn't Exist" is from the one-shot [_Black Swan_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21404497).


	38. Home For Christmas

**Home For Christmas**

  
  
  
Some time after Charlie was tased in the legs, she made it to the couch. She took some slow, deep breaths, trying to take it all in.  
  
She had definitely been in error, not running a full background check on Jonsson, and that was her responsibility - Anthony had his hands full right now.  
  
But now she had a potential situation on her hands. She didn't want all of those files on WikiLeaks, so she wouldn't call the police... but she didn't want Jonsson ever handling another Protocol Delta assignment. It was statistically unlikely that Jonsson would ever be transporting a long-lost family member again, but Charlie still didn't trust her to keep things professional. Charlie was listed on the books as an Apollyon Enterprises employee, but she didn't actually have the authority to fire Jonsson, who worked in a different department.  
  
However, she knew who did.  
  
She dialed Van Apollyon's cell number. After three rings he answered.  
  
"Charlie, hello," came that smooth, deep voice with its not-Russian accent.  
  
"Hi, Van."  
  
"What's going on?" Van was never one for pleasantries, he wanted to get right down to business, something Charlie appreciated.  
  
Charlie took a deep breath. "I had a bit of an interesting time this evening."  
  
"Oh, did you."  
  
"Mmm. To make a long story short, one of your company's drivers, an Alinta Jonsson, was recently given a Protocol Delta assignment. You know the type - minimal information given to the driver about what they're shipping. In this case, she was transporting people who needed to be relocated." Even though the people were known to Van, indeed Van had entrusted Charlie with their care back in 2019, it would be breaking the protocol to even tell _him_ who they were - and that hardly looked good when she was trying to get a driver sacked for breaking protocol. "One of the people left an item in her truck and she went to rather extreme lengths to make sure they get it back."  
  
"Extreme lengths how."  
  
"Well, she was told that one of our agents would personally return it to the party if she brought it in. She refused, said she wanted to do it herself, that it was conscience - only she could entrust its safe delivery. She wanted contact info, and of course we couldn't give it to her for the mutual safety of everyone involved."  
  
"Of course."  
  
"She came here all the way from Australia, she somehow got into my car - she somehow found out which car was _mine_ , which strongly suggests she got a hold of my plates from somebody somewhere. She hid in the back without me knowing, rode all the way to my house, when I got out she tased me, tied me up, dragged me inside, took out a hard drive, started copying everything on my laptop, and threatened to dump all my laptop files on WikiLeaks if I didn't give her the information she wanted."  
  
"Did you give it to her?"  
  
"...Yes, after she established she truly meant the party no harm and she really did want to return a lost item herself. Now, I expect to come under fire for that decision, but she wasn't lying as far as I can tell, and I'd rather risk the one party, or three as it were, than have my entire department and all of its cases compromised. She told me not to call the police on her or she'd put everything on WikiLeaks, so I have not. But there needs to be some sort of consequence for her actions. She shouldn't be driving anything for your company anymore."  
  
There was a pause; Charlie could tell Van was taking it all in. "I agree, she shouldn't be a truck driver for Apollyon Enterprises anymore."  
  
Charlie smiled and breathed a small sigh of relief. "Good. The contact person to fire her is Anthony Wyatt-Jones -"  
  
"Oh, I'm not going to fire her." Another pause. "That was an impressive amount of dedication and fortitude. I'd like her to be my personal assistant."  
  
Charlie's face fell. She couldn't believe what she'd just heard. "You. What."  
  
"Yes. While I'm based in Sydney and trying to keep a low profile, I could use some help managing various tasks. I wouldn't trust just anyone to do it, but someone who is that scrupulous about returning something that doesn't belong to them and is willing to go to extreme lengths... that's promising. Please notify Alinta Jonsson I will be taking her on as my PA at once, she starts as soon as possible."  
  
Charlie was fuming now. She'd experienced no small amount of tribulation and annoyance during her time with MI6, and it seemed to get ramped up since summer 2019 since Van put the three immortals in her care; the situation with having to emergency relocate Sören Sigurdsson and his partners had been a clusterfuck nightmare. Today had been a disaster - and one she could have prevented if she had been more careful, like checking the back seat of her car - but this was adding insult to injury.  
  
"Well then." Charlie sniffed. "I shall inform you of this first - I will be taking an unspecified leave of absence from my duties. Your new contact person within MI6 will be Anthony Wyatt-Jones. He was recruited into MI6 in 2015. He came from the Special Boat Service, where he's served in the Gulf War. He's... gifted..."  
  
"Yes, I am aware of who he is."  
  
Charlie wondered about that - Van was never just _aware_ of people unless there was a reason - but she let it go. It was no longer her problem or concern.  
  
"It's been a pleasure working with you, Charlie."  
  
"I wish I could say the same," Charlie said, and hung up. "Arsehole."  
  
_  
  
  
"What is it now."  
  
Charlie smirked. That was one thing she would miss about Anthony Wyatt-Jones - if he saw her number that was always how he greeted her. Not "hi", "hello", "good morning / afternoon", "what can I do for you", but a crisply annoyed " _what is it now_ ".  
  
"Well, Anthony, I have some news for you -"  
  
" _Oh god._ "  
  
Charlie's smirk became a chuckle. "But first I have a story." She sobered.  
  
"A _story_. Go on, then."  
  
"That girl Alinta Jonsson who kept calling you to try to get to me..."  
  
"Ah yes, her. She finally got in touch with you, I take it?"  
  
"She got a little more than in touch. She came all the way to Britain from Australia -"  
  
"Oh dear."  
  
"Somehow managed to figure out which car in the parking garage was mine, got in the back seat -"  
  
"You don't always check your car before you drive off? I do."  
  
Charlie liked Anthony, but she didn't need his smug bullshit right now. She went on. "She rode in the back seat on the way home, then once I got there she _tasered me_ , dragged me in and tied me up."  
  
"...Kinky."  
  
"Fuck you."  
  
"Not my type."  
  
" _No shit_." Anthony was gay - out, but not really flaunting it. If he wasn't gay, Charlie would have been tempted to make their relationship a bit more unprofessional, much as that was frowned upon. Times like this, though, she wanted to smack him more than anything else.  
  
"How did she even manage to get within range to assault you?"  
  
"She's like you." Charlie closed her eyes, remembering the way the ropes had wound about her without the girl even touching them.  
  
"I see. So... what happened after she went Christian Grey on your arse?"  
  
"Anthony, I repeat, _fuck you_." God, she was going to miss him. "She had a hard drive, started copying everything on my laptop, and told me she was going to dump everything on WikiLeaks if I didn't give her certain information."  
  
"And this is why you always turn your computer off when you're not using it, always log out of admin -"  
  
"Anthony, I don't need a lecture from you. Up until now leaving everything on and logged in was never a problem."  
  
"Up until now. That's the difference between you and myself - my training and experience has taught me it's better to err on the side of caution and not take any chances."  
  
 _I swear to god, Anthony._ He was such a smug _bastard_.  
  
Anthony went on, "Anyway, I take it nothing is on WikiLeaks or I would have heard about it from someone other than you."  
  
"Correct."  
  
"What did she even want."  
  
"Exactly what she kept going on about - the contact info of the three snowflakes she transported to Sydney. That wasn't a ruse, it was the real deal. All of that for an address and telephone number."  
  
There was a pause. "Are you fucking _serious_."  
  
"Deadly."  
  
Anthony gave a low whistle. "That's an impressive amount of dedication. Or insanity. You gave her the information?"  
  
"I did, which is part of why I'm calling you. She did tell me that she's one of the snowflakes' relations. I did a background check after the fact and it checks out, cousin on the mother's side. Mutually unknown prior to now because the family history is... problematic. But as much as she's clearly a bit unhinged, don't hunt her unless she causes a situation."  
  
"Got it."  
  
"It was concern enough that I told our esteemed employer - well, within the bounds of what info he had, since not even he would know specifics on a Protocol Delta job. And besides, I could barely string two words together when I called him. I've only _just now_ calmed down. But he shares your opinion that she went to impressive lengths to return a lost item. So much so that he's decided she's to be his new personal assistant."  
  
Anthony's laughter rang out. "Oh. Oh shit."  
  
"That was rather adding insult to injury, after what I'd been through -"  
  
"Oh, I'm sure. You poor _dear._ "  
  
"Anthony, you mock me now, but you'd be a bit miffed if you were in the same situation."  
  
"I wouldn't be." A pause. "She'd be dead. Which is a shame, because she sounds like she's got heart, real strength of conviction and character. She'd be dead just the same."  
  
Charlie shuddered. Once, years ago, she and Anthony had been at a cafe having lunch and as they were walking out she'd watched as those green eyes latched onto a bloke like a predator spotting its prey. Anthony unceremoniously waved his hand and she watched as the man had a fatal heart attack there on the sidewalk, and the contents of the man's briefcase showed that he was planning on setting off a bomb - Anthony had sensed the disturbance and acted in just the right amount of time. It had been one thing to read Anthony's service record in the SBS and another thing to personally witness what he was capable of, and it made Charlie mighty glad that Anthony Wyatt-Jones was on their side. She had never forgotten that Anthony had a body count - he did what he had to do when duty called. Yes, Alinta Jonsson would have gotten nowhere near him. The minute she'd come out to play, he would have choked her to death without touching her, then made the body disappear.  
  
"There's more," Charlie said. "The promotion she received within the company was... rather the final straw. When you were brought into MI6 as my righthand man, or left in your case, you knew the time would come where you might someday have to take over for me. And I've seen you salivate after my job for some time now. So I'm going on an extended leave of absence. I don't know when or if I'll be back, but you've got my job. Which, for the record, is not just being the contact person for Van Apollyon within the agency, who is currently located in Sydney, but also now includes you having a more up close and personal role with the snowflakes in Sydney, since after what happened in Iceland we need to make sure that they're behaving themselves. Those lot are so trying that I've got to wonder if they're related to Van Apollyon himself."  
  
"I welcome a change of routine."  
  
"You do now. We'll see how you feel in six months. Anyway, you're staying in Sydney until further notice, this is your new permanent assignment, and please stand by for further instructions."  
  
"It was a pleasure serving with you."  
  
"Likewise. You try to stay out of trouble now."  
  
"What's the fun in that?"  
  
  
_  
  
  
It was Tuesday, December twenty-second. Sören had been in Sydney just shy of two weeks.  
  
Now that the adrenaline of the cross-country trips across Canada and Australia had worn off, the depression was settling back in. Sören was making himself get out of bed every day and forcing himself to do something other than lay around and zone out, for the sake of the girls. He not only tended to their needs with feeding, changing, and bathing them, but he gave them cuddles, played with them, read and sang to them, and took them for walks and on little trips around Sydney. For better or worse, Sydney was home now, and he was in a beautiful part of the world - Sydney had rightly earned its nickname the Emerald City, a gem in the Southern Hemisphere.  
  
But Sören still felt lost. He had yet to hear from any of his family, Dag was still missing, and not being able to show his drawing or painting to the public was really getting to him.  
  
Dooku and Maglor went grocery shopping while Sören gave the girls a bath, somewhat cheered by them playing with their rubber duckie, making it squeak. When the girls were dried off and freshly dressed, Sören put them down for a nap, and then he sat out in the backyard for a bit to play fetch with Huan, looking out at Sydney Harbour.  
  
Dooku and Maglor didn't just come back with groceries, but Christmas decorations. A little tree, ornaments, stockings to hang on the fireplace mantle. Sören raised an eyebrow at it.  
  
"As you know, it is the twenty-second, Christmas is very soon," Dooku said.  
  
"Jæja, I got that. I just..." Sören shrugged. "Not really feeling it this year."  
  
Dooku sighed and gave him a disappointed look. "It's the babies' first Christmas."  
  
"Which they'll be too young to remember, most likely."  
  
"Perhaps so. But we really should..." Dooku sighed again and pinched the bridge of his nose. "You used to love Christmas. You were always so enthusiastic about celebrating it, back in Iceland."  
  
"That was before what happened, happened." Sören looked down. "Christmas won't bring my brother back."  
  
"No. Nobody is saying that. But the little family that we have, right here... it's a way of further cementing that we're here, together. We have each other. That does not stop being important just because your brother is gone -"  
  
Sören started crying, not able to help it. After a minute Dooku went over to him and gave him a tight hug. He pet Sören's curls and rocked him.  
  
"I'm sorry," Sören said.  
  
"Your feelings are perfectly understandable, sweetheart. But we've all been through a lot, and..." Dooku cupped Sören's chin and tilted his face up, making Sören look at him. Sören saw the unshed tears in Dooku's own eyes. "We need... we deserve... to do something nice for ourselves. We need to at least try."  
  
"Jæja, I guess so."  
  
"You know what we got at the store?" Maglor cut in. He waved a bag of licorice pieces. "There's stuff for you to make those Icelandic Christmas cookies that you do so well." Maglor smiled fondly, and Sören knew he was thinking about their first Christmas together back in 2009, and the subsequent Christmases, when he thought Maglor was "Alejandro" and they lived together in Reykjavik.  
  
"I myself could go for some _piparkökur, spesíur_ and _lakkrístoppar_ ," Dooku said, nodding.  
  
Baking would be a welcome distraction from the usual train of sad, morbid thoughts. Sören nodded. "OK. If it would make you happy..."  
  
"Well, we want you to be happy too." Maglor folded his arms. "But this is a step in that direction."  
  
Sören got up and Dooku floated over a bag with the ingredients to make cookies; Sören caught it. "I guess I'll get to work."  
  
  
_  
  
  
Ali was jetlagged, exhausted from the adrenaline crash, and as soon as she got home from her flight from Alice Springs to Adelaide, she had to handle last-minute packing, since she and Kenny and the kids would be getting on a plane tomorrow to Los Angeles to see Kenny's family in Anaheim, California for Christmas. They would also visit Disneyland while they were out there, as they did every year.  
  
Right now on Tuesday afternoon she was half-asleep, curled up against Kenny who was reading a Stephen King novel. Ali's phone went off, jolting her awake.  
  
"The fuck," Ali said.  
  
She floated the phone over to her and her eyes widened when she saw it was the number of Anthony Wyatt-Jones. She took a deep breath as she swiped to accept - Charlie had upheld her end of the deal to not involve the police, as far as Ali could tell, but Ali hadn't had the foresight to ask not to be sacked from her job. Anthony Wyatt-Jones may have worked for MI6, but he was also Murdock's boss. Ali braced herself.  
  
"Hello," Ali said.  
  
"Hello, Ms. Jonsson, this is Anthony Wyatt-Jones -"  
  
"I know."  
  
A soft chuckle. "I have some news for you."  
  
"I'm fired, aren't I?"  
  
"Actually, no. But you will no longer be a driver for Apollyon Enterprises. We have another job for you."  
  
"Another... job."  
  
There was a dramatic pause and Anthony went on, "Van Apollyon himself was impressed by the length you went to in order to follow your conscience with returning the lost item. He is based in Sydney, and he would like you to be his new personal assistant. The new job is a _significant_ pay upgrade from what you are making now."  
  
Ali couldn't believe it. "Van. Apollyon. _The_ Van Apollyon. The multi-billionaire."  
  
"The one and only, yes."  
  
"He... wants... me... to..."  
  
"Do I have to repeat myself."  
  
 _Twat._ "So, wait, he's in Sydney. I'm in Adelaide."  
  
"Correct. You will need to relocate to Sydney for this job. We will do it for you, all expenses paid. We even have a house all ready for you to move into. We'll help you with transferring schools for your children."  
  
This was convenient - it would make it easier for Ali to go visit Sören and return the sketchbook, which she was planning on doing after the holidays, once she'd gotten back from the States and had some time to decompress. "Well, brilliant. What's my actual job description? What does this line of work entail?"  
  
"Whatever Mr. Apollyon tells you to do... within reason, of course, but he would not make inappropriate demands of you. I assume, though, that because he is known to keep such a low profile, he may want help with things like shopping, or you being the go-to person for various interests and investments of his. He can tell you more about it himself. He'll have you sign all the contracts in-person when you arrive in Sydney."  
  
"All right."  
  
"One thing, though. Because Mr. Apollyon keeps such a low profile, this job _is_ semi-classified. If you must tell someone outside of your partner who you are working for, apart from people whom you are dealing with on Mr. Apollyon's behalf, please use the alias Lucien Steele."  
  
"Lucien Steele." _That sounds like an obviously fake name._ Ali fought back a snicker. _That sounds like a porn star name._ But Ali didn't say it aloud.  
  
She didn't need to. Anthony gave a soft chuckle, as if he also knew the name sounded fake and vaguely sexual. "Yes, Lucien Steele."  
  
"All right, well, when do I start?"  
  
"Immediately."  
  
"Er." Ali glanced at Kenny, who raised an eyebrow, and then she rubbed her dreadlocks, feeling the adrenaline kick back up. "Well, I can't do that. I have non-refundable tickets to go to the States tomorrow to see my partner's family -"  
  
"Yes, you're going to have to cancel that flight. We will reimburse you above and beyond whatever you paid for tickets, plus a starting bonus to make it worth your while -"  
  
"That's only one part of it. My entire _house._ I can't just pack up everything and leave on a moment's notice -"  
  
"We're sending movers out to help you."  
  
"When?"  
  
And then Ali heard a helicopter right outside, impossibly loud. She looked out the window and saw burly men in khaki uniforms getting out in her backyard. Then there was the sound of a truck pulling up in front of her house; Ali got up, peeked out the front window and saw a very large moving truck.  
  
"Right now," Anthony said.


	39. Lost and Found

**Lost and Found**

On Wednesday the twenty-third, Maglor went out for the afternoon to begin to look at properties for potentially opening up a space where he could give music lessons again - something he'd enjoyed doing in Akureyri, and had missed. This gave Sören and Dooku some alone time after they put the girls down for a nap.

For the last couple of days Sören had the nagging feeling that he'd forgotten something important - besides leaving his sketchbook on Nina's truck, and besides not asking Anthony for the vial of ashes and jar of dirt from the mantle at the house in Akureyri. Cuddling with Dooku, it finally hit him.

"Oh my god." Sören pulled back with a gasp. "Nico, it was your birthday on Monday and I totally forgot. I'm so sorry." His eyes burned with tears, feeling the stab of guilt. "Oh god..."

"Oh, sweetheart. I could have mentioned it, but I didn't. In fairness, Macalaurë didn't remember either - he apologized to me this morning." Dooku gave a wry chuckle. "As you know, I'm not getting any older anymore, so -"

"It still matters to me. I mean, you guys did my birthday before... before..." Sören tried to hold the tears back, but they broke. "Before shit hit the fan." He started sobbing. "God, all I do is fucking cry."

Dooku put his hand on Sören's heart and gently kissed his brow. "You're sensitive, is all. You feel things deeply."

Sören nodded, jaw trembling with his tears. "It's... not... fair... that we didn't celebrate... your birthday." He sobbed on Dooku's shoulder, feeling horrible about it. "I know everything's been crazy with us getting settled in and catching our breath, but _still_."

"I told you it's all right. I'm not offended."

"It's not all right, Nico."

Dooku's brow furrowed. "No Hi Not Offended? My goodness, you're being hard on yourself."

Sören gave him a look. Dooku laughed, and then he pulled Sören close and began to kiss his tears. "Darling. It's. All. Right."

"I am doing goddamn _something_ for your birthday, Nico." With that, Sören got up. "I'm baking you a fucking cake."

Baking Christmas cookies the day before had put Sören in a baking mood - especially when he had people who appreciated his cooking, rather than that vile Justin Roberts insulting everything he did regardless of whether or not it was actually bad. Sören went to the kitchen and rummaged through the baking supplies, and assembled the ingredients to make a Black Forest gâteau - a chocolate cream cake with cherry filling, which he'd learned was Dooku's favorite. Dooku kept him company in the kitchen as he worked, and when the cake baked in the oven, Sören led Dooku to the jacuzzi, where they cuddled, drank champagne and looked out at Sydney Harbour.

After awhile snuggling together turned into kissing and petting, which quickly got heated, hands wandering in the tub, sensually caressing, teasing. When Dooku began to kiss and lick Sören's neck and shoulder, Sören reached for Dooku's hard cock under the water, stroking it slowly. Then Dooku's hand gripped Sören's cock as their mouths met again, tongues swirling together, both of them moaning into the kiss. Sören came closer and their cocks kissed too, cock rubbing cock, Dooku's hand now around both of them, Sören's hand on Dooku's, Sören's other hand rubbing Dooku's chest hair and beard, enjoying the feel of the silver fur on his fingertips and palm. Sören was tempted to say to hell with the cake and drag Dooku off to bed, but he really did want to make up for missing Dooku's birthday, and the more they got worked up the better their eventual release would be.

When the timer went off, Sören strutted to the kitchen with a towel around his waist, hard cock tenting the towel. He let the cake cool, pouring them more champagne - Dooku waited on the couch, naked, propped up on one elbow. Sören leered at him and Dooku turned beetroot, which Sören found endearing. It also made his lust burn even hotter, to the point where Sören's hands were shaking as he attempted to put buttercream frosting and a maraschino cherry layer on top of the cake. He got a little bit of cherry sauce on himself and that was when Sören had an idea, which echoed back to their first year together, when Sören had first celebrated Dooku's birthday.

"Hey, Nico, let's have cake outside."

Dooku raised an eyebrow. "Like this?"

Sören nodded. There was enough space between them and their neighbors - including a thick grove of trees on either side - that they wouldn't be seen out there naked, especially not if they were in the garden-and-poolside area, which had a wall. And it was a warm summer day.

Sören cut two generous pieces of cake and carried them outside; Dooku followed, carrying glasses of champagne. Dooku used the Force to spread a blanket out on the grass, and he and Sören sat down. But before Dooku could take his plate of cake, Sören mashed it on himself and lay back, spreading the cake over his chest and stomach. "Come and get it."

Dooku gave a little growl, which made Sören's cock twinge. Dooku leaned over and began to eat the cake off of Sören's naked body, kissing him every few bites, sharing it with him. Sören's cock and hole twitched and throbbed as Dooku's mouth worked over his body - he had deliberately put the cake on some of his most erogenous areas. Sören almost came right then as Dooku ate cherries off of his nipples, lapping and suckling them well after they were cleaned off. His arousal intensified as he remembered that first year together, the way they ate cake off each other's naked bodies in bed. This was somehow even hotter, when they had learned each other's bodies so well since 2017, and something so shamelessly wanton about making love outside like this, even if they weren't going to be seen by others. This brought out the animal side of them, which had been dormant for too long, and was coming out with a vengeance now. Dooku's teeth were nibbling on Sören's stomach, and Sören clutched his head, moaning.

When Sören's body was clean of cake, Dooku said, "You should enjoy a piece too, my dear."

"Yes, I should." With that, Sören shoved Dooku on his back and mashed cake into his chest and stomach. He collected some of the cherry-and-buttercream topping on his fingers, and anointed the head of Dooku's cock. Then Sören ate his way down, lapping it off Dooku's body, paying special attention to his nipples, loving the way Dooku trembled and moaned beneath Sören's lips and tongue. Sören continued to lick at the freshly clean skin, teasing. When at last he got to Dooku's cock he licked the mess off slowly, Sören's own cock throbbing almost painfully, his balls tightening with need. Dooku was leaking a lot of precum now and the taste of it combined with the cherries and frosting made it even more delicious. After Dooku's cock was licked clean of the topping Sören sucked it slowly, stroking himself to the sound of Dooku's deep moans and sighs. At last Dooku pulled Sören's head off his cock and pulled him into a fierce, passionate kiss.

There was a bit of topping left on the plates. Sören collected some on his fingers and Dooku licked and sucked Sören's fingers, heat in his eyes. Then Dooku fed Sören from his fingers, with Sören's mouth moving back and forth on them like it was a cock. They continued to feed each other the last bits of frosting, licking and sucking each other's fingers and palms until the plates were clean, and then they fell on each other again, kissing hungrily.

They were both leaking so much precum that they didn't need lube. Dooku lay on his back again and pulled Sören on top of him. Sören knew what Dooku wanted - his favorite position. Sören straddled Dooku's hips and bit his lower lip as Dooku guided the head of his cock to Sören's opening; Sören gasped as Dooku began to push inside. Sören was a bit tighter than usual since they hadn't had much sex over the last month, with the craziness of everything, and Dooku groaned as he felt Sören wrapping around him. At last he bottomed out and they sighed together, taking each other's hands, feeling the love between them, that sweetness of being joined, one flesh.

Sören began to ride slowly, moaning as Dooku's hands slid over him. Dooku's cock always felt so right inside him, long and thick and with a slight upcurve that glided over that sweet spot inside him perfectly; Sören loved the veiny texture, the feeling of Dooku's cock pulsing within his walls. He loved looking at Dooku, trim, nice muscle definition rippling with each motion, the contrast of olive skin and silver fur on his chest and arms and legs, the predatory look in those dark eyes as he took what was his again and again. He savored that feeling of being claimed, possessed, one with the man he loved so deeply, both from ancient times and having fallen in love with him all over again in this life - his father figure, his protector, who took care of him. Now he wanted to take care of Dooku, to show him how much he appreciated him, not wanting him to feel taken for granted for an instant.

_It has always been you, Fëanáro,_ Dooku spoke across their bond.

_My Ñolofinwë, the other half of my soul._ Sören leaned down, took Dooku's face in his hands, and kissed him. Then he rose up, Dooku's hand on his heart, before it slid over to "innocently" brush a nipple; Sören moaned.

Sören's moans got louder when Dooku began to play with his nipples, rubbing, pinching, pulling on the nipple rings. And Sören rode faster when Dooku leaned up to draw a nipple into his mouth, Sören's arms around him. Soon Sören was bucking madly, his cries answered by the slap of Dooku's balls as Dooku matched his rhythm, thrusting up into him harder and harder, Sören's whimpers answered by Dooku's deep groans. Dooku continued to lap and suckle Sören's nipples, making them exquisitely sensitive, which went straight to his cock, twinging, dripping precum. When Dooku reached to stroke Sören's cock in time with his thrusts, his free hand playing with the nipple where his mouth had just left, Sören felt himself right on that edge, desperate for release, yet never wanting to stop, it felt too good...

Their eyes met. Sören could feel Dooku on that edge too - he could see Dooku trembling. Sören leaned in for one more kiss, and when their tongues began to play together Sören gave in to his climax, screaming into the kiss as he throbbed deliciously. A few seconds later Dooku gave a deep moan into the kiss, shuddering as his molten flow filled Sören. Sören sighed - he loved that feeling. They kissed again, petting each other, and Dooku lay back, pulling Sören into his chest, arms tight around him, rocking him as Sören listened to his heartbeat.

"I love you, you know," Sören said after they lay there a few minutes.

"I know." Dooku kissed the top of Sören's head and pet his curls. "I love you too, sweetheart."

"I'm sorry, again, that I forgot -"

Dooku grabbed Sören and silenced him with a kiss; Sören's cock stirred awake again. "Please stop apologizing."

"I don't want you to feel like I don't care," Sören said. His chest tightened, his eyes welling up again. "I don't ever want you to doubt how important you are to me... how I feel about you." Sören stroked Dooku's face, skritched his beard like a cat. "I would die for you, Nico. And in a way I did, back in the day when... when I thought you hated me, that you didn't love me anymore..." The tears began to flow again, Sören's jaw trembling as he remembered. "I went off to Angband..."

Dooku closed his eyes, and now he began to cry too, silent tears spilling down his cheeks. Sören could feel the grief across their bond - the grief that ultimately caused Fingolfin to face down Morgoth in single combat, nothing left to lose.

Dooku opened his eyes and he gave Sören a stern look, though his eyes were sad rather than angry - compassionate, even. He stroked Sören's cheek and took Sören's hand and kissed it. "I know you would die for me, Sören. Fëanáro. But now... I want you to live for me." He stroked Sören's cheek again, then his beard, thumb tracing the full, soft lips. "The last few months, you haven't been living. You've been surviving. When we first met each other in 2017, I was lonely and depressed. Even more serious than I am now. Working as a criminal defense barrister for decades... it chews you up and spits you out, and I felt like more and more of the life had been sucked out of me. But you made me laugh. You made me have fun, despite myself. You had so little in your life compared to the privilege that I took for granted, and yet you had so _much_ , making the most of what you had, showing me the little wonders all around. I don't expect you to be happy all the time. I know you've struggled with depression since you were a child. But I miss seeing that fire in you. That life in you. I know it's still there. And I will do whatever I can - whatever you need me to - to help you back. It hurts to see you lost in the darkness, Fëanáro. Please. No more dying to prove how much we love each other. Let's build a life worth living. Not just for the sake of your daughters... but because you deserve better. We deserve this second chance we've been given to get things right."

Sören wept, and Dooku cried with him. They clung to each other, rocking, Sören sobbing loudly and Dooku crying more quietly but no less fervently. And at last Sören nodded, overcome by those words, the feeling behind them - Dooku had been a magnificent courtroom manipulator in London, and Fingolfin had been an inspiring leader, always knowing just what to say and how to say it.

"I love you," Dooku husked. "So very, very much -"

Sören kissed him hard. One kiss became another, and another. Dooku's cock came back to life, and as they kissed their hard cocks rubbed together, silken steel teasing. Sören's hands ran over Dooku's body, wanting him again, craving not just another orgasm but another _fuck_ , wanting to be taken, filled, their bodies expressing what words could not.

Sören got on all fours, wiggling his ass at Dooku, who laughed softly before he slapped Sören's ass. "So wanton," Dooku said. "So shameless."

"Jæja, get over here and fuck me."

Dooku knelt behind Sören, grabbed Sören's hips, and pushed into him. Their hips and balls slapped together as Dooku took him fast and hard, his deep groans and grunts accompanied by Sören's whimpers and howls. Sören rocked his hips back at Dooku, fucking himself on that luscious cock driving into him, and after awhile Dooku leaned over him and began to kiss Sören's neck, nape, and shoulder, knowing how sensitive he was there. When he tilted Sören's face to kiss him, Sören almost came, but held back, wanting to keep feeling that cock rubbing inside him, that feeling of complete surrender to lust, to passion...

"Well, what do we have here?" Maglor was outside now, cock in hand, stroking himself.

Before Sören could answer, Maglor shoved his cock in Sören's mouth. Sören loved it, trembling as he greedily sucked it down with a little whimper, rocking against Dooku even harder. Maglor grabbed Sören's head, pulling his curls, and gently fucked Sören's mouth, Sören rubbing his tongue with his mouth full, getting closer and closer to that edge as he gave in even deeper to his lust, watching his beautiful Maglor moan and sigh and growl as his cock was pleasured. Sören loved feeling slutty like this, hungry for their cocks, completely debauched. Dooku began to nibble and bite Sören's neck and shoulder, making Sören feel even more animal, in heat for them both.

Maglor came first, too overcome by his arousal watching them fuck, and when Sören's mouth was flooded it set him off too; Sören turned his head to kiss Dooku with his mouth full of Maglor's seed and Dooku cried out into the kiss, shaking as he spent into Sören.

Maglor rolled onto the blanket with them, laughing. "Wow," he said.

Dooku laughed too. "If this is how you make up for missing my birthday, I'll see to it that you shan't ever remember my birthday on the right day again."

Sören giggled and snuggled between the two of them, content under the cool shade of the trees, the scent of roses wafting over from the garden.

_

The next day was Christmas Eve. Sören, Dooku and Maglor went out with the girls to pick up the makings for Christmas dinner, and on the way inside Sören snorted, once again amused by how Dooku and Maglor had wrapped fairy lights around the palm trees outside their house. It still didn't feel quite like Christmas because it was summer here, but the absurdity of it tickled Sören.

Dooku and Maglor set to work making dinner - not Christmas dinner but something fancy nonetheless - and when it was in the oven, Dooku and Maglor went outside with Huan, and Sören sat with the girls in the living room. Kate and Tori were getting fussy again. They had been to see a doctor approved by MI6's protection program, who informed Sören the girls were teething. Even though Sören knew this was why they were so cranky - that and they probably somehow knew Dag was missing - it still made him feel helpless when he tried various methods to soothe them and calm them down and they continued to squall.

The babies were still squalling when the doorbell rang. Reluctantly, Sören got up to answer the door, and saw Anthony Wyatt-Jones standing there, looking flawlessly elegant in a navy blue blazer and faded jeans with expensive brogues and his Rolex. He smelled of coconut like he was wearing sunblock, which mixed in an intoxicating way with the musk of his cologne.

Sören stood there dry-mouthed for a few seconds, heat flooding his cheeks, before he pushed himself to action, feeling annoyed with himself for acting like an overgrown schoolboy with a stupid crush. "Hi."

"Hello." Anthony cringed as Kate hollered. "Is now a bad time?"

Sören ran a nervous hand through his curls. "Jæja, it's always a bad time, but, ah, come in. Coffee? Tea?"

"This won't take long," Anthony said, but he came in anyway, and cautiously sat in the armchair, cringing again as Tori gave a screaming cry.

"They're teething," Sören said apologetically.

"Awww." Anthony looked genuinely sympathetic.

"No kids of your own, I take it."

Anthony snorted. "That would be a hard no."

Sören leaned in to begin massaging Kate's gums. "So you're here to... check in, I guess?"

"Yes, and to give you an update."

"Oh?"

Anthony nodded. "Charlie is taking a leave of absence. I have been assigned to you for the foreseeable future, so I'm staying here in Sydney."

" _Oh._ " Sören wondered what had made Charlie take off, but he didn't press it. "I see."

"I told you this already, but the powers that be in our department have decided you need closer supervision after you exposed yourself and Dag exposed himself, so you'll be seeing a lot of me. I'll be coming by at least once a week, probably more than that. They won't be long visits necessarily, just touching base with you to see what you've been up to, and if you need anything."

"OK."

"I'll try not to be up your arse too much." Anthony gave a wry smile.

_You can be up my arse anytime._ Sören shoved that thought away, cheeks burning. He did not want to be attracted to this guy. "We'll try to not be too much of a pain in your arse."

"Well." Anthony raised an eyebrow. "Charlie warned me about you guys. But I have confidence that after what happened in November, you know you _have_ to be more careful now. Not just for your own sake, but now for your children as well."

Sören sighed. His heart sank, thinking of Dag again. "We keep calling them my children instead of Dag's children. I mean, I know they have to be on paper as mine for our collective best interests, but..." Sören frowned. "Sounds so final. Like... like this is permanent." He hung his head. "Still haven't found Dag yet, huh?"

"No, and I'll be honest with you, the more time that goes on, the colder that trail gets. MI6 hasn't stopped looking for him, but it's the proverbial needle in a haystack. He could be anywhere, and we just don't know. I'm sorry."

Sören nodded. "Já, so am I."

Anthony gave a sharp exhale. "Sören, I met Dag once."

Sören looked up, and over at him. Their eyes met. "Really? When? How?"

"In 2001, I was newly in the Royal Navy... it was about two months before I was deployed to the Gulf after 9/11. There was a teenage boy who was lost in London, needed directions. I helped him get where he was going, and he said his name was Dag and he was attending Oxford to become a physicist, which stood out with me because of how young he was, and he mentioned being from Iceland, which you don't see everyday. He asked for my contact info to send me a care package, and he did, and I always felt guilty that I didn't write back to him to say thank you, but I was in the middle of a war, and." Anthony's voice trailed off, and for a moment he looked troubled, haunted; Sören could sense him remembering the Gulf War. The loss of innocence in his youth. Then Anthony's cold, professional side came back, catching himself. "Anyway, I thought you should know. Your brother seemed like a genuinely good person - someone I might have liked to be friends with if things were different - and I'm sorry that he's gone missing. I will not make you false promises as to his return. I can only tell you that we will do what we can."

For some reason, the little anecdote of Anthony having met Dag in London in 2001 - Dag would have been all of sixteen years old back then - went straight to Sören's heart. With Christmas quickly approaching - Sören would have gone to Toronto to see Dag this Christmas if things hadn't happened as they did - Sören felt the loss even more sharply. He missed his entire family, wondering why they hadn't been in touch yet if they were notified. He tried not to cry, not wanting to cry in front of Anthony. Then Kate and Tori started up again and the tears came silently. "Fuck," Sören said under his breath.

"I didn't mean to upset you." Anthony gave him another sympathetic look. Then he started to get up. "I... I should go now."

"Wait," Sören said before Anthony could head to the door.

Anthony paused.

"You said that my family would be notified about the... relocation and stuff, já? Nobody's gotten in touch with me."

Anthony nodded. "Because of how government agents were sniffing around in Iceland, they were told to hold off a bit and let things calm down before they contacted you. But I think a few people should be in touch relatively soon."

"OK." And then Sören found himself asking, "So... you didn't know you were going to be stationed here permanently in Sydney to handle us a few weeks ago, did you?"

"No. I had a feeling I'd be in Sydney a bit longer than intended but I didn't know I'd be assigned here full-stop." Anthony shrugged. "It's a risk you take with this line of work, being shuffled off at a moment's notice. Not the first time it's happened."

"You're from... London, right?"

"Born and raised."

"Well, I don't know if you'd had plans for the holidays, but as someone who myself got shuffled off at a moment's notice, do you want to come over tomorrow for Christmas?"

Anthony blinked in surprise. For a brief instant he looked wistful and then he said, "I... don't want to intrude..."

"Even just for a little while. I made Icelandic Christmas cookies, I'll probably make some more, and I think we'll likely have some leftover cake from Nico's birthday."

"Oh, well. If there's cake." Anthony gave a small smile.

"Jæja." Sören smiled back. "Come over around 1 PM? Tea, cake? If you're too..." Sören made a vague hand gesture. "To want to stay for Christmas dinner that's OK, but you're invited to that too."

Anthony turned slightly pink. "That's very kind of you, Sören. Thank you."

Their eyes met, and held, and Sören could feel the broadcast of loneliness, missing family. They came from two different worlds, but they had that much in common right now.

"I'll see you tomorrow, then," Anthony said, walking to the door.

"Have a nice rest of the day," Sören said, waving.

As soon as he heard Anthony drive off, Sören fell apart, the girls howling along with him. _I have hit a new low in life, I am so depressed over losing my brother that I invited an almost-random-stranger to Christmas without even asking Maglor and Nico if it was OK first._ Sören wanted to be kind, of course, sensing it wasn't easy for Anthony to not be able to go back to London for the holidays, but it wasn't completely selfless on his part; Sören was paranoid of everyone and anyone, and Anthony was one of the only people out there who he _knew_ was on their side, and he was desperate to have that family feeling even for a little while.

Especially with feeling like a failure as a parent, right now, feeling like he wasn't worthy to be Dag's daughters' godparent, watching over them, screeching as they were. Sören picked them up out of their pram, sobbing, feeling like he'd hit the lowest moment of his life.

Sören didn't expect this to calm them down, but he was singing this just as much for himself as for the girls. He rocked them as he sang:

_There's a lady who's sure all that glitters is gold  
And she's buying a stairway to heaven.  
When she gets there she knows, if the stores are all closed  
With a word she can get what she came for.  
Ooh, ooh, and she's buying a stairway to heaven._

_There's a sign on the wall but she wants to be sure  
'Cause you know sometimes words have two meanings.  
In a tree by the brook, there's a songbird who sings,  
Sometimes all of our thoughts are misgiven._

_Ooh, it makes me wonder,  
Ooh, it makes me wonder._

_There's a feeling I get when I look to the west,  
And my spirit is crying for leaving.  
In my thoughts I have seen rings of smoke through the trees,  
And the voices of those who stand looking._

_Ooh, it makes me wonder,  
Ooh, it really makes me wonder._

_And it's whispered that soon, if we all call the tune,  
Then the piper will lead us to reason.  
And a new day will dawn for those who stand long,  
And the forests will echo with laughter._

_If there's a bustle in your hedgerow, don't be alarmed now,  
It's just a spring clean for the May queen.  
Yes, there are two paths you can go by, but in the long run  
There's still time to change the road you're on.  
And it makes me wonder._

_Your head is humming and it won't go, in case you don't know,_   
_The piper's calling you to join him,_   
_Dear lady, can you hear the wind blow, and did you know_   
_Your stairway lies on the whispering wind?_

The girls were in fact starting to quiet down, and then the doorbell rang again.

Before Sören could put the girls back in their pram and get the door, Maglor came out from the backyard and walked to the door. Sören wondered if it was Anthony again, and then he heard Maglor say, "Nina?"

Sören got up with a start, and with the babies in his arms he walked right over to the front door. There she was, wearing jean shorts and a white tank top under an open purple button-down short-sleeved shirt, her dreadlocks loose and spilling down her back, sunglasses on top of her head, grey eyes wide as her eyes met Sören's.

"Sören Sigurdsson," she said, and pulled something out from under her arm. "I believe this belongs to you." It was the lost sketchbook.

"Oh. My. God." And then Sören's eyes narrowed. "Wait. You... weren't... supposed to have our names." He started to panic.

"Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Alinta Johanna Jonsson. My father's name is Böðvar Jónsson. He is the younger brother of a certain Brynhildur Jónsdóttir. He and his sister Birgitta both left Iceland in 1989 at Brynhildur's request, Birgitta going to Scotland and Böðvar going to Australia, because Brynhildur was being attacked by the Norse god Odin and wanted her siblings away from Iceland and out of his range. Böðvar married an Aboriginal woman and was banned from contacting Brynhildur's children by their guardians." Alinta cocked her head to one side. "Sören, I am your cousin, and I live right here in Sydney."

Maglor took Kate and Tori out of Sören's arms and Sören pulled her into a fierce, tight hug. The tears came on again, and Alinta was crying too. They took a moment to look at each other and laugh, and then they cried again, rocking each other, clinging.

"They didn't know, when they assigned you as our driver...?"

"No." Alinta shook her head. "They didn't know, I didn't know. How I found out... well... that takes some explaining."

"Please. Come in." Sören gestured, and Maglor stepped out of the way.

"Well, I'm not alone. I have some people waiting in the car, who I told to wait on the odd chance that this... went... badly." Alinta sniffled.

"Oh, Alinta -"

"Call me Ali. Please."

"Ali. I'm sorry if you thought I'd reject you..." Sören hugged her again and wept afresh.

"I didn't necessarily think you would, just." Ali shrugged. "People have been shitty so I thought I should err on the side of caution -"

"God. I can only imagine what kind of garbage Katrín and Einar said to your father." Sören facepalmed. "They had a problem with aunt Gitta being gay, too."

"Fuckers."

"Exactly." Sören nodded and hugged her harder. "So who's with you? My uncle?"

"No... he lives out in the outback, but he's expressed interest in meeting you sometime so we'll make that happen. My... let me just call them." Ali made a "wait" gesture, reluctantly broke the hug, took a few steps down the walkway, and whistled, waving her arms.

A few minutes later Sören saw a tall, handsome Asian man with short dark hair, wearing a Pearl Jam T-shirt and black cargo shorts, and two kids who looked not older than five or six and were obviously mixed-race, both with long, wild dark hair, light brown skin, a blend of their parents' features. "This is my partner Kenny, and our children, Metallica and Megadeth."

Maglor's laughter rang out. "You named your kids Metallica and Megadeth."

"I sure fucking did," Ali said, and Kenny nodded. They threw the horns, and to everyone's surprise, Kate attempted to do so as well, which made Maglor laugh even harder.

"I like them already," Maglor said. "Come in. Make yourselves at home."

Then Sören realized, as Kenny strolled in, that he'd seen him before. When Edenel came to visit in September he'd brought a set of photos from another universe, and one of those photos was of that world's Sören, Harrison James and Kenny playing video games together in pajamas, drinking beer and eating snacks. Sören wasn't surprised he and Harrison were bros elsewhere, and now here, apparently, was another. _It's that guy._ Sören felt chills down his spine, his arms breaking into gooseflesh.

"NICO!" Sören shouted. "We've got company for Christmas." _And a Christmas miracle. A sign that everything will work out somehow._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anthony meeting Dag is in the one-shot [_Far Away, So Close_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21436486).
> 
> The photograph with Kenny in it is mentioned in [chapter 3 of this story](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19774741/chapters/49558757).


	40. Star of Hope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well folks, that's a wrap for _Flames of Eternity_! The saga continues in [_Blood of Eternity_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22279951) if you want to keep following along and see the further adventures of Sören and his family in this particular universe. _Blood of Eternity_ also marks the return of Vanimórë...

**Star of Hope**

  
  
Ali was dreaming again of herself in the body not her own - male, white skin, long red hair. This time she was traveling with Marcus Lauer. Hunting for something. They slaughtered people, mad in grief, in rage of what had been done to them. Tears of regret later. Two small boys, who became as sons to them. The torture on the cliff face again, the lost hand. And then the other hand burning, burning, constant pain, amplifying the never-ending grief and anger and regret. At last she could take it no more and threw herself into a chasm, down down down...  
  
Ali woke up with a gasp, in a cold sweat. She lay there for a few moments, too shaken to go back to sleep... trying to breathe slow and deep to get the terror in check, but she felt disturbed to her core. She opened her eyes finally to glance over at Kenny, hoping he didn't sense the disturbance across their bond, and he was already awake.  
  
"Well." She blinked, surprised. "Hi."  
  
"Hi."  
  
"Hi."  
  
"Hi."  
  
"Hi."  
  
"Hi."  
  
Ali folded her arms. "You OK?"  
  
"I could ask the same about you."  
  
Ali raised an eyebrow. "I asked you first."  
  
Kenny exhaled sharply and pinched the bridge of his nose. "No. I had one fucking _weird_ , fucked up dream."  
  
"Yeh." That was somehow even worse than if her own distress had woken him. "So did I."  
  
"Really? Shit. That... that's weird." Kenny sat up a little. "I'd wondered if maybe it was just, you know. Staying in a new place." Sören, Dooku, and Marcus had insisted they stay for Christmas in one of the spare rooms, even though they didn't live that far away. "Everything happening all at once with the move on such short notice, and." Kenny shrugged. "But this already didn't feel like my usual dreams. This felt.. I don't know. Different somehow."  
  
"Different how?" Ali's heart was racing again. She was really hoping they weren't _different_ in the way her dream had been different.  
  
"Well, I was a white guy." Kenny laughed. "And you were there and... you were a white guy."  
  
 _Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh no..._ Ali felt sick. This was exactly what she was afraid of.  
  
"Oh Ali, I'm sorry, I'm not trying to be offensive -"  
  
"I'm... I'm not offended. It's not that." Ali managed a weak smile to try to reassure him. "Go on, then."  
  
"So yeah, you were a white dude, and you had... fucking _red hair_ , of all things..."  
  
 _Jesus Christ._ Ali wanted to _throw_ something right then.  
  
Kenny went on, "And you were chained up to, like, the side of a cliff or something, and I rescued you, but I had to cut off your hand. Like I said, that is _so_ fucked up. I mean, I want to chalk it up to the move, and maybe being symbolic of your old job being so hard on us and all but this..."  
  
"I had the same dream from the opposite point of view awhile back," Ali said. "And just now I woke up from its... ah. Sequel, or whatever you want to call it." Ali looked down. "I took my own life because something was burning my other hand, arm, I was in torment constantly on top of my trauma." She shook her head. "It doesn't feel like just a dream, Kenny. It feels like something that actually _happened_."  
  
"But..." Kenny struggled for words, his eyes tearing up. "But. But... I... I... I don't understand."  
  
"Neither do I." Ali let out a sigh. "Marcus was in my dream."  
  
"Yeah, it's weird, I feel like I know him from somewhere, but I couldn't tell you where." Kenny narrowed his eyes. "And that old guy, Nicolae... he feels like my dad, already, kinda."  
  
"He's very nice," Ali said. She got up to stretch. "I don't know what to make of it all. It's obviously not _nothing_ -"  
  
"It never is, with us." Kenny made a face. "I mean, what are the odds that you would be driving your cousin on assignment and not realize it? And yet, here we are."  
  
"Yeh." Ali nodded, and waved her hand to pull over a clean change of underwear. "And that my cousin is like us. And Nicolae is, too. I'm guessing Marcus is like them." Except Marcus also somehow wasn't like them, as well, and that was something she didn't understand either.  
  
"Do you think we should tell them about the dreams?" Kenny asked. "Especially with this most recent round happening under their roof, and all."  
  
"I think we should wait," Ali said. "It's enough that we're all together, and _a lot_ has happened to bring us together, and I think it might be better to just chill for awhile before we mention having dreams about, like... amputations and shit."  
  
"Yeah, you're probably right. That's totally a great conversation topic at Christmas dinner. 'So hey, how about that dream where I cut off my girlfriend's hand, but she was a dude? And then she had a dream where her other hand was in agony and she killed herself! Pass the plum pudding, please.'"  
  
Ali snorted and moved a pillow without touching it to throw it at Kenny - _the Force_ , Dooku had called it, a term he'd said he'd learned from an old mentor. "That's just wrong, Kenny."  
  
"Yes, I agree. Plum pudding is totally wrong. It doesn't even have plums in it!"  
  
"KENNETH GEORGE KIM." But Ali couldn't help laughing. She knew this was how Kenny coped with things, and she loved him for it.  
  
When Ali and Kenny were changed, they went down the hall to another guest bedroom to wake up Metallica and Megadeth, and the bedroom was empty, which gave Ali a few seconds of sheer panic...  
  
...and then she heard the sound of "Linus and Lucy" on the piano down the opposite end of the hall. She came down and saw Marcus seated at the piano with Metallica and Megadeth watching him. Ali felt a big grin lighting up her face; Marcus glanced at her and shot a grin back.  
  
Kenny danced into the room and began doing a goofy shuffling dance to the song and then a moment later Sören was there dancing like Snoopy. They both looked completely ridiculous, which made Metallica and Megadeth giggle, and Ali snorted. Marcus was trying not to laugh - he gave Sören a mock stern look, which just got Sören dancing harder, and Marcus sat up and attempted to look even more serious and dignified in response.  
  
When the song was over, Marcus took a bow and Sören gave him a little kiss. The way they looked at each other suggested they wanted to do more than kiss, but they kept it chaste, Sören rubbing Marcus's shoulder and affectionately ruffling his long hair.  
  
"Can I try?" Metallica asked, looking at the piano, then at Marcus.  
  
"They were taking piano lessons in Adelaide," Ali explained.  
  
"Good," Marcus said, and then he nodded and had Metallica sit on the bench next to him. She looked at the sheet music that Marcus had in a folder near the piano, and he demonstrated the chords, with her doing as he did.  
  
Ali watched, feeling hopeful - one of the things that had bothered her about their sudden move to Sydney was the children needing a new piano instructor, since she couldn't reasonably expect Jeremy to make the travel from Adelaide to Sydney just for piano lessons. Marcus seemed very comfortable with the piano, and as he walked Metallica through the song, he also seemed like he had an inborn talent for teaching music as well. Ali broke out into gooseflesh, feeling almost as if the move, finding these people, had been _fated_ in some way.  
  
Her eyes met Kenny's and Kenny spoke into her mind: _You feel it too._  
  
  
_  
  
  
Sören smiled as he watched Snúdur sitting in an empty box while Rasputin attacked a pile of wrapping paper and Pumpkin dragged a bow off like it was her prey.  
  
Dooku had insisted that Ali and Kenny stay the night, and they had gone out last evening to get the presents for their kids at their house and bring them over. It had been a joy to watch Metallica and Megadeth open their gifts late this morning - all Pokemon and Marvel-themed, toys and clothes and bedding - and now the kids were eating Christmas cookies while _A Charlie Brown Christmas_ played on the giant flat-screen TV. Kate and Tori were calm if not chipper, allowed to crawl around on the floor.  
  
It wasn't the family Christmas that Sören had envisioned having in Toronto, but it was better than what he would have thought possible after everything happened. Snuggled between Maglor and Dooku on the couch, Sören almost felt content.  
  
Ali looked pretty happy too, though she kept checking her phone with a nervous look on her face. Finally Kenny raised an eyebrow with a "Hm?", beating Sören to inquiring, and Ali gave a nervous laugh and said, "Oh, you know. I'm trying to check for texts or messages in case he wants something." Ali turned to the confused-looking Sören, Dooku and Maglor and said, "I got promoted to become the personal assistant of Lucien Steele, one of the big shareholders in the company. It's why we're in Sydney now, we were living in Adelaide." She gave another nervous laugh.  
  
"Ah." Maglor nodded.  
  
Something about that seemed really odd - she was working as a truck driver and now she was a personal assistant of some high-powered corporate guy - but Sören didn't press it. Then Huan whined, looking at the door.  
  
"Ah shit, he needs to go out," Maglor said.  
  
"Can we walk the dog with you?" Megadeth asked, and Metallica enthusiastically nodded.  
  
Ali chuckled. "Oh god, they've been at us for the longest time about getting a dog."  
  
"Oh, you totally should," Sören said. "They're good for the soul."  
  
"I don't see why not, if your mother and father think it's OK," Maglor said. Sören still was taken aback at Maglor's new fake German accent, under the guise of Marcus Lauer - though they had disclosed Force-sensitivity to Ali and Kenny, who had it too, and Ali had apparently been educated by her father on at least some of what happened with Odin, Maglor still was reserved about revealing himself as non-human and dropping his glamour just yet.  
  
Ali and Kenny looked at each other and nodded. "I think I might stretch my legs and come with you," Kenny said, getting up.  
  
"Yeh, me too. This is a gorgeous neighborhood and a walk would be nice," Ali said.  
  
"OK!" Maglor got up and got Huan's collar and leash ready.  
  
After Maglor, Ali, Kenny and the kids left with Huan, Sören and Dooku looked at each other and then Sören, not able to resist, gave Dooku a wicked grin before pulling him in to a deep, hungry kiss.  
  
They made out on the couch like a couple horny teenagers - though Sören kept looking over at the girls crawling around to make sure they were OK. The girls were cuddling together near Rasputin now, who had gotten tired of killing the wrapping paper and was sitting atop his "prize". Sören smiled as Dooku kissed him again.  
  
"Maybe we should put the girls down for a nap and..."  
  
The doorbell rang.  
  
Sören looked at the time, and realized Anthony was coming over at 1 PM. "Shit," Sören hissed as he got up from the couch; Dooku patted his ass as he got up, which didn't help.  
  
Horny and frustrated, flushed, disheveled and breathless, sporting a semi-erection in his shorts, Sören answered the door.  
  
Anthony of course looked put together in a steel blue blazer and jeans... and he hadn't come empty-handed. He had a wheelbarrow with potted waratahs - red blooms - and a bag of potting soil and fertilizer.  
  
"Happy Christmas," he said.  
  
" _Gleðileg jól,_ " Sören responded.  
  
Anthony turned a little pink and gave a genuine smile. "I... er." He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Wanted to give you a little combination Christmas and housewarming present."  
  
"Oh, that was so thoughtful of you." Sören grinned at the beautiful waratahs, and felt a little chill, remembering having painted a garden that he, Dooku and Maglor lay in with those very same flowers; those flowers had been conspicuously absent from their garden here. And now... "Come in."  
  
Anthony was given a plate of Christmas cookies and a slice of leftover birthday cake; Dooku brought out Earl Grey tea. Anthony had the tea and then he said, "We should get down to business of putting these in the garden first, before..."  
  
Sören accompanied him outside and watched as Anthony rolled up his sleeves and got to work putting the waratahs in the garden, and explained to Sören a bit about their care and feeding - he'd also brought an instructional pamphlet. While Anthony was there he also checked on the other plants without being asked to, and did a little pruning on the climbing roses, explaining why he was doing that.  
  
"I'm impressed," Sören said. "I wouldn't have pegged you for a gardener."  
  
"It's a hobby. One my late father passed down to me." Anthony gave a sheepish little smile. "I don't have a garden in my flat - a couple of potted plants, but it's not the same thing."  
  
"When... you visit to check up on us, you're welcome to putter around in the garden," Sören said.  
  
"Yes." Dooku was right behind, watching without Sören knowing he was watching until now. "I had a garden at our place in Iceland, and before that when I lived in London -"  
  
"Oh, what part of London?" Anthony asked. "It's in your file but that's a lot of information to retain."  
  
"Bermondsey."  
  
"Ah. I'm from Blackheath."  
  
"I lived in Greenwich," Sören said.  
  
"Oh. You weren't that far. I'm surprised we hadn't bumped into each other somehow." Anthony continued pruning.  
  
"It will be nice to have someone to talk shop with about gardening," Dooku said.  
  
"Yes. It will." Anthony nodded.  
  
When they went back into the house, the girls were sleeping in their pram. Sören smiled, admiring how adorable they were. Rasputin came over to sniff Anthony and proceeded to climb on him.  
  
"I hope my cat doesn't get jealous later," Anthony said, petting Rasputin, who purred loudly. Anthony nibbled on a cookie. "You baked these?"  
  
Sören nodded.  
  
"You are phenomenal," Anthony said. "I try to not indulge too much but my god, these are like crack."  
  
Sören laughed, pleased at his genuine appreciation of the Christmas cookies. "I feel bad that we didn't get you anything when you brought us those beautiful flowers."  
  
"Oh no, please don't feel bad. I know you've had a rough time of it and I wanted to do something nice. And I'll gladly accept this as a gift."  
  
"Well, OK. But did you get anything this year? With your family being back in England, and all." Sören couldn't help himself. "If you don't get at least one new item of clothing every year, the Yule Cat will eat you." He gestured to Rasputin, who was sitting on Anthony getting pettings and skritches with one hand, while Anthony worked on cookies with the other. "He's just waiting."  
  
"The... what now."  
  
Just before Sören could explain to Anthony what the Yule Cat was, the door opened - Maglor, Ali, Kenny and the kids were back. Huan bounded inside, tongue lolling, and Maglor marched ahead to the kitchen to get him water with a brief "hello" to Anthony; Dooku went with Maglor to check on the progress of Christmas dinner, and Metallica and Megadeth went to the bathroom.  
  
"Oh." Ali blinked slowly. "You have company?"  
  
"Till Jólakötturinn eats him."  
  
Ali's laughter rang out and she facepalmed. "Oh _god_. Oh _no_."  
  
"So your father carried on the traditions, then."  
  
Ali nodded. "Oh, he wouldn't let us forget it. Mum thought it was hilarious."  
  
Then Sören felt self-conscious and said, "Shit, I should introduce you guys. Ah... Anthony, this is Ali Jonsson, my cousin. Ali, this is Anthony Wyatt-Jones -"  
  
Ali's eyes widened. " _You._ "  
  
Anthony's eyes also widened. "Well."  
  
Ali came over; Anthony put out his hand to shake and Ali backhanded him. "You obstinate fucking _twat_ , do you know -"  
  
Before Ali could finish her sentence, Anthony flipped her, and with Ali down on the floor Anthony got up, pulled his Glock pistol out of his holster and pointed it at her with both hands. "Put your hands on me _again_."  
  
"Hey, what the fuck?" Kenny yelled, running over, and Anthony pointed the gun at him too. Kenny sat down, hands up.  
  
Sören thought about using the Force to grab the pistol away from Anthony, but he kept that urge in check. "What the FUCK?" he yelled, not able to believe what he just saw. Kate and Tori were woken up by the disturbance now, and started squalling. " _Shit,_ " Sören said and went to their pram. He picked them up and sat down with them, making soothing noises, and then he glared over at Anthony, who was putting his pistol back in its holster, and Ali, who picked herself up and brushed herself off.  
  
"You want to explain what the hell is going on?" Sören asked.  
  
Ali and Anthony gave each other a filthy look.  
  
"I heard about what you did to Charlie," Anthony said to her. "I'm not taking any chances with you."  
  
"What?" Sören couldn't believe it. "Wait... Charlie's on a leave of absence, right? What happened?"  
  
" _She happened_ ," Anthony said, pointing to Ali.  
  
Ali folded her arms. "You guys were standing in the way of me getting the information I needed, so I could contact Sören."  
  
"So... so... so wait. You..." Sören cocked his head to one side.  
  
"Oh, she hasn't told you that story? Charlie told me all about it. She went all the way to England, somehow got into Charlie's car, tasered her, tied her up, and threatened to dump all her computer files on WikiLeaks if Charlie didn't give her your contact information," Anthony said. "That's a bit excessive, if you ask me."  
  
"Like pulling a gun on me for slapping you isn't?" Ali spat.  
  
"Like I said, _Ms. Jonsson._ What you did to Charlie demonstrates that you are unpredictable and _just a bit dangerous_. I wasn't going to take any chances."  
  
"OK. OK. _OK._ " Sören was getting irritated, as Kate and Tori continued to squall. He was most of all irritated with himself, for thinking Anthony looked devastatingly sexy in predator mode. "Ali, no slapping people. And Anthony, for fuck's sake, chill out, at least where my family is concerned." He glanced in the direction of the hallway. "Her kids could have seen that, you know?"  
  
"As far as _why_ you were not given that information," Anthony said to Ali, "I'm sure you by now know about the disappearance of one of your other cousins. We had to err on the side of caution. If I give that information away to just all and sundry -"  
  
"I'm just angry," Ali said. "I went to a _lot_ of trouble and aggravation to get that info out of Charlie. I didn't enjoy it. But excessive or not, I would do it again. That's what I do for my family, _especially_ if I think they're in some kind of trouble." Ali's eyes met Sören's.  
  
"And I do what I must to protect the people I'm assigned to protect," Anthony said.  
  
"OK. Just..." Sören pursed his lips. "I mean it. I don't want another incident like this in my house. Seriously."  
  
"I apologize," Anthony said.  
  
"So do I." Ali nodded.  
  
"Just so you know," Sören said, looking into Ali's eyes, "he's coming by here at least once a week to check up on us, because of... everything that's happened." He glanced over at Anthony. "So that makes him part of the family too now, sort of."  
  
 _Of course, in a Fëanorion-Finwion family, this is perfectly normal behavior._  
  
  
_  
  
  
Everyone managed to get through Christmas dinner without incident. Dooku sent Anthony home with leftovers, and Sören gave him another plate of Christmas cookies. Sören walked Anthony out, and they lingered on the walkway.  
  
"I'm sorry again about earlier," Anthony said.  
  
"Well, at least I know we're in good hands if there's ever a threat in your presence."  
  
Anthony nodded. "My hands are very capable."  
  
Sören's face burned and his mind went straight to the gutter, not wanting to think about such things as Anthony giving him a massage, or fingering him... Sören's cock started to wake up, which was exactly not what he wanted just now.  
  
"Are you sure you don't want to stay awhile longer?" Sören asked.  
  
Anthony nodded. "My cat is waiting."  
  
"Oh right, you mentioned you have a cat." Sören smiled.  
  
"When you asked if I had kids, I thought about mentioning him then." Anthony smiled back. Then he raised an eyebrow. "The Yule Cat, though."  
  
"It's an Icelandic thing. He eats you if you don't get at least one new item of clothing every year."  
  
Anthony laughed. "What."  
  
Sören nodded. "That's not as bad as our other folklore. Grýla and Leppalúði are trolls who eat naughty children, they cook them in a stew. Jólakötturinn is their cat."  
  
"And you lot teach this to children back in Iceland."  
  
"Yes. Yes we do."  
  
Anthony shook his head, laughing harder. Then he gave Sören a pointed look. "Clearly, that had little effect on your behavior."  
  
 _I lived with scarier things than trolls._ But Sören tried to keep it light-hearted. "Me? I am very well-behaved. Very nice."  
  
"That's not what I heard. I heard you've been very naughty."  
  
 _Would you like to find out how naughty I am?_ Sören tried not to entertain the thought of Anthony taking him over his knee. "Rumors and hearsay, I tell you."  
  
"Mhm." Anthony's cheeks were a little more pink. "All right, I should get off now. I mean. Be off."  
  
Sören wondered if Anthony was realizing how flirtatious he'd just been and was feeling a little horny too. Sören resisted the impulse to invite Anthony back in for a blowjob. _You barely know this guy._ Not that it had stopped Sören before, in his devil-may-care days when he got around.  
  
Sören simply said, "All right. Well, have a good rest of the evening."  
  
"Thank you. You too."  
  
They continued to linger - Sören fought the urge to give him a hug. _Or something else._ Face on fire, Sören headed back inside.  
  
Ali and Kenny were invited to stay for a second night in a row. Kenny took some time out to call his family in the States, while Sören showed Ali his collection of paintings, and they went through his sketchbooks as well. Sören felt nostalgic in a sad way, and when they looked at the sketchbook that Ali returned, Sören began to cry silently, falling apart when they came to the sketches Sören had done of Ali.  
  
"It's like I knew somehow you were family," Sören said.  
  
Ali pulled him close and ruffled his hair. "I know I can't make up for your missing brother. But I'm here for you. Well... when my boss isn't having me do things."  
  
After the kids all went to bed, Maglor took Huan for another walk, by himself. Ali and Sören went for a late-night dip in the pool, while Kenny and Dooku were inside talking about history, a common interest of theirs. Being in the pool made Sören wonder if Anthony would have joined them in the pool if he'd stayed longer, and he tried not to think about what Anthony might look like in a pair of swim trunks, or nothing at all. He really didn't want to be horny and stupid for the MI6 agent assigned to protect them, and Sören hoped he'd get over it soon, not wanting things to be awkward.  
  
In the meantime he _was_ horny and stupid for Anthony, and Sören needed to do something with all that sexual energy. When Ali and Kenny retreated to their room for the night, Dooku went to the sink to wash the last few remaining dishes, including the mugs he and Kenny had tea in, and Sören dragged him off to the bedroom.  
  
Maglor got in to find Sören and Dooku naked on the bed in the sixty-nine position, laying on each other's sides, sucking each other slowly, languidly. Maglor quickly undressed and then he knelt on one side of the bed and Dooku cried out with his mouth full; Sören sensed across their bond that Maglor's tongue had slipped inside Dooku's channel. Dooku's moans got louder and Sören could feel it across their bond, Maglor's tongue rubbing that magic place inside him. Sören shuddered, knowing how much better it would be to feel it directly, not just empathically. A few minutes later Maglor did just that, getting on the other side of the bed and kneeling, his tongue spearing Sören. Feeling Dooku's mouth on his cock and Maglor's tongue stroking within him was one of Sören's favorite things, and he sucked Dooku's cock a little harder and faster, gently rolling his hips to fuck himself on Maglor's tongue.  
  
Maglor went back and forth between them, eating one then the other, as they continued to suck and lick each other's cocks. After a few rounds he began to finger one as he tongued the other, and Sören sucked Dooku hard, going out of his mind with pleasure and lust. Before they could both come like that, Maglor pulled Sören off Dooku's cock and kissed him hard, sharing the taste of precum. Sören and Dooku looked at each other and decided a little return teasing was in order; they pushed Maglor onto his back, and after licking and caressing him all over, getting him more and more worked up, Dooku and Sören began to take turns sucking Maglor's cock and tonguing his passage, going as slowly as could please, until Maglor was panting, gasping, writhing, begging to be taken, used, fucked.  
  
Sören climbed on top of Maglor, spread him, and kissed him again and again as he used the Force to pour lube over his own throbbing, aching cock and into Maglor's opening. Then, with a fierce, hungry kiss he grabbed Maglor's wrists, pinning them, and began to push into Maglor's slick, tight heat. When Sören bottomed out inside him they both cried out, and Sören rested there for a moment, looking into Maglor's eyes, seeing the love and the trust and the _want_. They kissed again and Maglor bucked against him with a little whimper, urging Sören on. Sören began to thrust, slowly.  
  
After a few thrusts he felt Dooku behind him, gasped against Maglor's mouth as he felt the cold lube pour into him. Then he groaned, kissing Maglor harder as he felt Dooku's cock slide against the crack of his ass. And when Dooku was at last inside him, Dooku's arms tight around him, kissing and nibbling Sören's neck, Sören gave a deep sigh of contentment. It felt so _right_ being with them this way, the three of them reunited after so long, and falling in love with each other all over again in this lifetime.  
  
Dooku set the rhythm, thrusting into Sören, with Sören inside Maglor at the same tempo. They went slowly at first; Sören let go of Maglor's wrists and Maglor's hands roamed over him, every now and again reaching out to touch Dooku. Sören and Maglor kissed and kissed, as Dooku kissed and licked and bit Sören's sensitive neck and shoulder. When Dooku tilted Sören's face so they could kiss, Maglor leaned up to lap and suckle Sören's nipples, which drove Sören mad with exquisite sensation. Soon Dooku was taking Sören hard, and Sören was pounding into Maglor, relishing his cries, letting out broken cries of his own as the curve of Dooku's cock rubbed into him just the right way, and the grip of Maglor around him stroked him into a frenzy.  
  
Maglor came first, and the sight and sound of him climaxing - the feel of that passage pulsing around him, hot seed spurting over him - sent Sören over the edge, Dooku finishing a few seconds later. They rested like that, Sören in Maglor's chest with Dooku against his back, safe and warm.  
  
Then the need rose in them again. Sören pulled out of Maglor and, still on top of him, straddled Maglor's hips. When Maglor's cock was slick and ready for him, Sören impaled himself, crying out once Maglor was all the way inside, and made it especially delicious by tugging on both of Sören's nipple rings at the same time. A moment later, Maglor cried out as Dooku pushed into him, and Dooku's arms were around Sören again, Dooku's hand stroking Sören's cock as Sören rode, bouncing on Maglor, Dooku thrusting into Maglor as hard as Sören was riding. Sören rode harder and harder, the passion consuming him until that was all there was, all that mattered, all that existed. Their bodies, their desire, their need. Sören lost himself in the fuck and could feel how lost his lovers were, right there with him, aching to come but not wanting to stop, shameless in giving themselves over to the rhythm of the heat, the mating frenzy, wanting each other so desperately.  
  
The second climax shattered them, three voices rising as they came together, taking each other's hands. It felt like magic, like some ancient ritual to form a shield wall around them and all that they loved.  
  
Laying there tangled up with Dooku and Maglor, Sören thought to himself before he dozed off that as much as he had lost, he was still blessed to have these two amazing men in his life, and he needed to hold onto that.  
  
  
_  
  
  
On Boxing Day, Ali and Kenny finally went back home. Ali promised to invite them over once they were settled more in the new place in Sydney, and they were invited to come over again for New Year's Eve.  
  
Shortly after Ali, Kenny, and the kids left, Sören felt that gnawing loneliness again, once again missing Dag and feeling all the regrets and what-could-have-beens. But he made himself focus on Kate and Tori, who were playing on the floor. _I have to keep on keeping on._  
  
Just as he got himself a glass of lemonade from the kitchen and was about to sit down, the doorbell rang. Sören wondered if Ali or Kenny had forgotten anything, or if it was perhaps Anthony, and he walked over to the door... feeling that brief surge of panic, as he always did and probably would for some time, paranoid after Dag's disappearance.  
  
On the other side of the door was Coldagnir, Margrét and Frankie. Sören did a double take and then he let out a happy scream as the three of them pulled him into a tight group hug.  
  
Hearing the scream, Dooku came out from the garden, and then he paused in his tracks and said, "Well, hello there."  
  
"What are you guys doing in Sydney?" Sören asked, still not able to believe his own eyes. "Did you come to visit?"  
  
Margrét shook her head. "Feds started sniffing around us in Reykjavik after you'd been in Canada for a bit. This British guy with MI6, uh, Anthony Whatshisname..."  
  
"Wyatt-Jones," Sören supplied.  
  
"Yeah. Him. The posh cunt who sounds like Benadryl Cucumberpatch," Frankie said.  
  
Sören snorted. _Don't ever change, Frankie._  
  
"Told us we needed to relocate," Margrét said. "So we live here now."  
  
Sören let out a low whistle. "Jesus, he's had his work cut out for him lately." He gestured for them to come in, and Dooku went to the kitchen to get refreshments. "So you guys... did you get the full relocation package? Name change and everything?"  
  
Margrét nodded. "I'm 'Estonian' now." She made air quotes. "Maarja Siimar."  
  
"I get to be Irish," Frankie said, "which is less of a stretch, 'cos, you know, me mum and aunt Siobhan. Anthony asked me to practice an Irish accent for him." Her voice changed from its usual Cockney to a flawless Irish accent like that of her aunt's. "I did, so. I called him a feckin' gobshite."  
  
Sören howled with laughter. "I wish I could have seen his face. God." Sören wiped away a single tear. "We're going to drive that poor man to drink."  
  
"Good thing I'm Irish now, yeah?" Frankie grinned.  
  
"Speaking of driving people to drink... where's Maglor?" Margrét raised an eyebrow.  
  
"Walking Huan. Here, let me give you guys the tour..." Sören put the girls in their pram.  
  
Margrét and Frankie were duly impressed by the mansion, though they had been moved into a fairly substantial home themselves. Margrét smiled at the garden, musing "I should try to make a Japanese-style garden in our own yard." Then she scowled and said, "You know, if the heat doesn't kill me."  
  
"Jæja, it's a bit hotter than what we're used to." Sören nodded. "Having a pool is really nice."  
  
"We should get you back inside where it's cool," Coldagnir said, taking Margrét's arm. Before Sören could follow them, Frankie stopped him.  
  
"Sören, I have to talk to you for a minute," Frankie said, looking ultra serious, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.  
  
Sören raised an eyebrow and closed the glass door so they could have privacy. They took a few steps back away from the door, back into the shady garden area. "What's up? Are you all right?"  
  
Frankie nodded. "Yeah." She gave a nervous smile. "I'm... I'm all right, Sören."  
  
He was still worried. "Are you sure -"  
  
Frankie stepped towards him, put her arms around his waist, and leaned against his chest. "Sören, I'm pregnant."  
  
It came out before Sören could stop himself. "Hi Pregnant, I'm -"  
  
"A daft cunt." Frankie swatted his ass. She looked up and gave him her best attempt at an exasperated look, but there was a twinkle in her eye and her lips quirked and then she gigglesnorted and swatted him again. "Goddammit Sören, I'm being serious!"  
  
"Hi Being Serious..." Then Sören sobered. And then it hit him. "Oh. So you're... you're pregnant." A frisson went down his spine.  
  
"Coldagnir can't have kids, being, you know, sun god. I mean, that didn't stop, like, the Greek gods from having kids with mortals but it's... he's not like that." Frankie swallowed hard. "And your sister has her original plumbing but -"  
  
"She had a vasectomy years ago because she didn't feel like she would be a good parent." Sören also swallowed hard. "I was there, I went with her to and from the appointment."  
  
Frankie nodded. "You're gonna be a father, Sören. I mean, you already are now, with the girls, but -"  
  
It crashed on Sören like an anvil, and he started to cry, happy and nervous all at once. He grabbed Frankie and held her tight, and they held each other, rocking together.  
  
"So... so you're keeping it?" Sören asked.  
  
Frankie nodded. "We can either arrange to share custody or you can be primary custodial parent and I'll come visit. We'll talk more about that when it gets closer to the date. You... you're not angry or upset?"  
  
"No, I'm not angry or upset. I'm Sören." He had to.  
  
Frankie swatted him again. "If you want your son to have a father who's alive, you better cut the shit, you."  
  
"Son? It's too early to tell though, já?"  
  
"Er, yeah." Frankie rubbed her head. "That just came out, I don't know why."  
  
But it _felt_ right. _We'll see when it gets here, I guess._ Sören leaned down and gave Frankie a kiss, one arm coming out from around her so he could rest a hand on her belly, which wasn't showing yet, and start to rub. "I love you, you know."  
  
"I love you too."  
  
"They... they know, right?"  
  
Frankie nodded. "Yeah, we just have to tell Pops and Maglor."  
  
"We will." Sören took Frankie's hand and led her back inside. "Do you have an idea of when you're due?"  
  
"Sometime in July."  
  
That bought Sören some more time to get ready, or as ready as he was ever going to be. _Kate and Tori are going to have a brother. Or a sister. Or a non-binary sibling._ Feeling elated and scared, Sören stepped back into the living room and pulled Frankie in with him, giving her a little twirl. He smiled at Dooku, Margrét and Coldagnir drinking lemonade on the couch, fussing over the cats who had come out for attention - it was nice to see Dooku was at least trying to be civil to Coldagnir, after everything that happened.  
  
"You look like the cat that swallowed the canary," Dooku said to Sören.  
  
"Well, swallowed something," Sören said with a cheeky grin.  
  
"Sören, I swear to god," Margrét muttered.  
  
Coldagnir grinned. "It looks like the sun is shining on you again."


End file.
